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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267604">The Epoch of the Vigilant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnelshephard/pseuds/carnelshephard'>carnelshephard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dark, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Major Character Injury, Major Original Character(s), Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Minor Character Death, OC Has Slight Anger Issues, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pretty Fucking Long If You Ask Me, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smoking, Telepathy, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:53:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnelshephard/pseuds/carnelshephard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither was a human, neither was a god. Stuck somewhere between the past and the future, their paths entangled with one another. Both were pulled in other directions, a moment was all they could hope for. </p><p>Just one night, just one conversation, just one gesture, just one glance. </p><p>❈</p><p>Sophronia Venere was gifted. Skin-on-skin contact, that's all it took to know somebody's deepest secrets, all it took to read you, to control you. Afraid of touch and letting people in, she has desensitized herself from her past. But the ghosts, they never disappeared. They came back and haunted her with vigor, reminding her of all she had done and let be done. </p><p>This time, when Nick Fury comes knocking, she will have to face the music. Face her ghosts. Face herself. </p><p>Note: This story is more focused on our heroine than on the romantic aspect. Yes, there is some romance and it is a slowburn, but for what it's worth, I'd call this a dissection of growing past your mistakes and a lesson of self-acceptance. I don't own any characters mentioned in the story, they all belong to Marvel Studios.</p><p>On Hiatus due to a Mental Health Break!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; Original Character(s), Steve Rogers &amp; Reader, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The One where You're Confused</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear readers,</p><p>this is just a silly author's note that you should definitely not feel guilty about skipping.</p><p>First of all, thank you for even giving a chance to this fan fiction. This <em>is</em> my first work that I'll be posting and I have to say, I'm quite nervous. </p><p>I've worked on this piece for a long, long time. A shamefully long time. I redesigned our main character, Sophronia Venere, at least a dozen times. She's gone through a full spectrum of character arcs, experienced many ups and downs at my hands to become who she is now. </p><p>Not sure where I heard it, someone said that writing a character in the most accurate way is to break yourself down into million pieces, pick one and bounce ideas off of that broken shard. Sophronia, my first OC, comes not only from a dark place but also one of hope, change and progress. I very much see that one missing piece of me fitting perfectly into the mosaic of words that is her story. </p><p>I hope you will love her journey as much as I did while planning and writing it. </p><p>Sophronia's adventure is about trying to find the right way, while being deterred from the finish line by so many antagonistic forces. When she is joyful, I laugh with glee. When she cries, I weep along side her. When she is victorious, I am the one throwing the confetti.</p><p>Again, thank you and enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>All it takes to start you down the path of self-reflection is one tragic event. During that tragic event you go through four stages: you experience, you feel, you think and you act.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This tragic event can be a car accident, where you were so close to death you saw your whole life flash in front of your eyes and it made you realize what you were doing wrong all along. <em>If I get out of this alive,</em> you told yourself in the midst of glass shards flying around and the airbag ejecting,<em> I'll call my mother more often.</em> Then you sat on the curb of a hospital parking lot, and with tears in your eyes and phone in your hand you pressed the dial button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You experienced, you felt, you thought and you acted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This tragic event, they say, is supposed to move people in a good direction, perhaps make you better. Majority does have a change of heart, others move on like nothing had happened and some minds deteriorate and become so twisted that they don't see a fault in their second to last step of self-reflection. They don't see where they went wrong, where their logic has failed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They move, but move the wrong way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia never thought too much about her decisions, she acted impulsively and sometimes recklessly. She took up habits she was ashamed of and went down paths there was no coming back from. She tangled herself with people who pulled her away from reality and then her faulty thinking forced her to escape the only safe place she had. Running and pining after an illusion created by her head, she was unable to see what was right in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she moved, but moved the wrong way.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The One where It All Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole department was quiet. Not in an absence-of-sound kind of way, but rather the looks people had on their faces. Cooped up in their offices they watched as a blonde woman all of them were fairly acquainted with strolled out of the manager’s office with tears in her eyes. In her hand was a handkerchief and the big, ugly, cardboard box. All of the doors were opened, even some heads were poking out here and there, except for one. </p><p>The opaque glass door that the woman was heading to stayed closed even when she hiccuped loud enough to be heard from the inside. </p><p>A man stopped by the young woman. Her pale eyes mirrored the color of her close-fitting dress (one of the brightest azures there was) and he almost forgot what he was going to say. The glistening around her irises jogged his memory. “I’m really sorry, Julie,” he murmured. “Do you need someone to keep you company tonight? Drinks perhaps?”</p><p>Her white table that stood in front of the closed door was almost empty. No pictures of family, no knick-knacks or memoires. Just a lot of textbooks, manuals, papers and notebooks. She was still in college, barely getting by. Barely legal, she thought and looked up at him, sure he was at least in his late twenties.</p><p>“That’s nice of you, Mark,” Julie’s helpless voice whispered, veiled with shock, “but I’ll be okay. Thank you.”</p><p>Mark only nodded and returned her tight-lipped smile covered with tears. With a destitute thud, the box was dropped on the ground. Julie began sweeping things into the box once Mark figured out she wasn’t in the mood for conversation or their usual flirting.</p><p>She just got sacked, that much was obvious to the heads that were now retreating to their own offices. Everybody was on edge. She was the third one to get fired this past week. Julie barely got settled into her chair in the new tower when her manager called her in. </p><p>To say her stomach dropped at his solemn face would be an understatement. She was trying not to shake in front of him as he listed a reason after reason. </p><p>
  <em> “Your contract expires today, Julie.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We don’t believe you’re what Stark Industries is looking for.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “There have been complaints, but that’s not…” </em>
</p><p>She looked up at the opaque white door with furrowed eyebrows. She thought she was doing a good job. In fact, she believed she was the most stellar assistant there could be. She knew every question that was asked, she aced the interview and the testing, not to mention that everyone on the floor liked her. Everyone excluding the only person she was ever there for. Nothing deemed her worthy, not even getting out of her way, not even listening to every command she had given her, no matter how strange, not even being tentative to the woman’s needs. All of it wasn’t enough. The one she was directly under barely spoke a few words to her <em> a week</em>. She considered it a good one if she even acknowledged her with a ‘good morning’ or ‘goodbye’. The shut door to the woman’s office was menacing her, mocking her. </p><p>She huffed and went back to packing. One of the items she was desperately trying to fit in wouldn’t comply. </p><p><em> “Stupid book!” </em>she cursed. More tears stained the cardboard box. </p><p>“Trouble packing, Rivers?”</p><p>Her head snapped up. She recognized the voice instantly, despite seldom hearing it. </p><p>She was glaring at that door mere seconds ago, but now it was opened. In the threshold of it stood a young woman, who couldn’t be much older than Julie. The only detail that could derail you would be the giant under-eye circles on her, but they definitely weren’t many years apart. </p><p>“I don’t need help, miss Venere,” she whispered, lowering her head as not to show the anger that filled her expression. The complaints, they must have been from her. </p><p>To an outsider looking in, they looked like day and night. Julie wore a new dress with a pattern and heels. She had wide, azure-blue eyes, ones that caught your attention from across the room. Miss Venere with crossed arms had black jeans and a shirt Julie’s seen dozens times before. Her brown curly hair didn’t even reach her shoulders like Julie’s did. And the eyes, what a difference they made; dark brown, cat-like and focused. Her skin, too, was darker and not milk-like like Julie’s was.</p><p>“Sure, you don’t,” she said. </p><p>“I’m alright, miss, you can go back to your work.” <em> A work that never needed my assistance anyway </em>, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue. </p><p>Miss Venere (or Sophronia, as the manager called her by her first name, but Julie never dared to) ignored the bitterness hidden behind her words. Even if Julie didn’t realize it, her anger and frustration were apparent to the whole floor. Some were even turning in their seats to steal a peek of the exchange. Julie watched the woman she was supposed to be an assistant to pick up a book and look it over. Her eyes seemed empty, as if she was somewhere else altogether. They met Julie’s when she handed her the book.</p><p>Somewhere between reaching out and looking down at it, Julie’s breath caught in her throat. A thank-you died on her lips. Her movements froze and fear seized her body. She almost staggered back a few steps.</p><p>There was nothing off with the book itself or with the woman holding it. A card sat atop of the cover. It was held in place by Sophronia’s thumb. A simple design, but quite telling. Anyone who once saw it, never forgot it and Julie’s been a witness to it for the past four months every day. It was seared into her memory and triggered her fight-or-flight reflex. </p><p>She gawked at Sophronia, all doe-eyed and wide-mouthed. Her hands began shaking. </p><p>The colorful cover of a C++ handbook was in deep, deep contrast with the black and white card. On the dark background was a modest rendition of a lotus flower in stark white. Nothing else but that card made Julie drop the item as her manager’s words were replaced by that of a man who’s been haunting her nightmares for months now. The card soared through the air and Julie watched it fall. </p><p>❈</p><p>It had been a long three months of waiting for Julie to give up. The day the department manager waltzed into Sophronia’s office with the suggestion of an assistant, Sophronia knew her days of silence were over. She wasn’t going to hear the end of it if she disagreed. Mr. Kronski would never let her live it down, either. She just sat back at her desk, nodded and sent her a tense smile. </p><p>The next day, she had a brand new assistant—an intern who had never worked in the field and was still studying. The big eyes and that eagerness of Julie Rivers made Sophronia take a deep breath and accept one single fact; she was going to have to be nice. For the first three weeks, she gave her tasks, made her solve problems that were supposed to be out of her league. She said good morning and goodbye (though, she would admit to dodging any form of small talk or any other conversation). </p><p>It wasn’t that Sophronia didn’t believe Julie was capable—she must be more than qualified if they hired her in the first place—, but she needed to distract her with minute tasks of no importance. Her interest was piqued when she managed to come back to her with a solution after only an hour of work. </p><p>Sophronia returned home that night and did some digging. A background check of sorts. It was that night she found out that Julie was an orphan, whose parents died a few years ago, addiction and heart-attack. She could only imagine the kind of childhood she had. She was a recipient of a scholarship at Columbia University, graduating highschool as a sophomore. A smart girl, indeed. Mentions of winning state-wide competitions, many medals and achievements, too. Julie was more than met the eye. </p><p>On Monday, Sophronia was determined to involve Julie more. Give her a chance to prove herself and perhaps stay at Stark Industries after her paid internship ended. She had the brain, she had the potential, she could be the next big thing for all she knew. </p><p>Walking into the old building upstate, where Stark Industry was once located, Sophronia had high hopes and a small smile on her face. In her hand, a manilla folder with papers and flash drive with all kinds of half-finished ideas for Julia. </p><p>All her excitement evaporated into thin air the second she turned the corner. She saw Julie slipping into her office, laptop in hand. A hundred percent sure she locked her office on Friday, Sophronia decided to turn on her heel and wait until she came out. </p><p>Julia wasn’t expecting her to be here and judging by the jacket she was still wearing. She just got there. She knew Sophronia was coming, she just didn’t know how much time she had. </p><p>The next day, there were cameras installed. Sophronia didn’t confront Julie. She was disappointed, yes, but curious to see it play out. </p><p>Sophronia wasn’t afraid that Julie could stumble upon something she wasn’t supposed to find. No, that was the least of her worries. Her mind twisted and bent over her reasons when the live feed showed Julie opening the door to her office with a key. She even went to the Industries’ CCTV filings to know how many times this had happened before. <em> The </em>morning she went in, the footage was replaced, showing logs from other days. She wondered how no one noticed. </p><p>All Sophronia could see when she left for her lunch break was Julie going through her drawers, her planner and then the company’s computer. In one hand, she had her laptop and Sophronia figured she had the live feed of the same cameras from the outside turned on. A very smart girl, too smart, indeed. </p><p>Nia took a long lunch that day. She was mulling over every possible contingency. </p><p>Then it clicked. It all clicked and while one second she was slapping her forehead, the next she was scheming. To put together a plan was much easier than she thought. </p><p>The fact that Julie didn’t fall for it the first time put her behind, but once she did, she had all the evidence she needed. Numerous evaluations with Mr. Kronski later, it all fell into place. All of it was leading up to this day, the day she would finally show her hand, be smug and one-up her other employer. </p><p>But as she watched Julie Rivers crumble into a sobbing mess, her delight turned bitter, zesty. The Julie Rivers that Sophronia had been watching watch <em> her </em> was nowhere to be found, instead she found an afraid and vulnerable woman. </p><p>“He doesn’t know yet, Julia, calm down,” she said, a poor attempt at comfort. </p><p>When she was standing in the doorway she was almost sure that the woman in front of her was acting, pretending to be sad to lose an internship that was supposed to last all throughout the summer. So young and beautiful. She had seen spies younger and more efficient than that.</p><p>“Are you denying that you work for Chester Yates?” Sophronia asked her and then told her to sit down as even more violent sobs wrecked Julie’s tiny body. She plucked a few tissues from the box she had on her table still and offered them to her. Crouching down, she began rearranging all the items in the cardboard crate in a neat manner. When Sophronia looked up, both of them froze. </p><p>Julie’s arms were crossed over chest, knees squeezed tight together. She was sure she had never witnessed someone with as tensed a body as hers. Even her eyes told her the one thing she needed to know. She was afraid. No, scratch that, Julia Rivers was petrified while maintaining eye contact with Sophronia Venere. </p><p>Sophronia went over every interaction, every encounter she had had with this girl. Julia wasn’t innocent, no, that was a transparent truth. She <em> was </em> cunning and resourceful. She knew what she was getting herself into, what she was risking. There was no other explanation, she <em> must </em> be working with Yates. She had seen the footage of her work. Her problem-solving capability was proof enough that Julie, who was sitting in front of her, was red-handed, guilty. If she knew she could get caught, ruining her possibilities for the future, why would she go so far? And why was she trembling like this?</p><p>Sophronia’s heart squeezed at yet another realization.</p><p>“Did he tell you I’d do something if I found out?” </p><p>Julie’s hands only tightened around her body, a tiny <em> yes </em> escaped her. The tears were still staining her red, blotchy skin. </p><p>“Jesus… Yates, he likes games, Julia, but he’s all bark, no bite. I wouldn’t hurt you—or anyone, for that matter.” A few beats of silence followed as Julia’s body remained tense, despite Sophronia’s confession. She eyed the woman some more. Her body language; she couldn’t be in this willingly. “You owe him, right?”</p><p>Julia nodded. Sophronia almost rolled her eyes. If Chester Yates was employing her and was aware of her skill set, he wouldn’t let her go so easily. Considering that there was a debt involved, she wondered what kind of mess this young woman got herself into. Foolish girl. </p><p>“He’ll give you another job,” she murmured and sat back on her heels.  </p><p>Julie looked like she wanted to disagree but she kept still, sitting in her spinning chair all weepy. Sophronia didn’t know what to do with people when they were in this state. Uncomfortable; Julie’s emotions were all over the place and Sophronia felt like her head was going to implode if Julia sniffled one more time. She grabbed another few tissues and offered the garbage can under the desk.</p><p>These tears were a long time coming for Julie, pushing on her throat for months if not years. And Sophronia never knew what to do when somebody was having a panic attack. She faced them herself, but she was always alone. Comfort was as foreign as the situation. She only knew one thing that could ease the stress of the day from Julie’s shoulder.</p><p>She reached out over the box and touched Julie’s knee. She flinched. Sophronia almost retracted her hand. </p><p>This was the utmost violation of privacy someone could endure. And as Sophronia’s hand made contact with the skin, she pushed away that ash-like taste of fear and scraps of memories. She focused on her own head, on what she was remembering. Sea water meeting a beach. The sun setting over the Triskelion river. A smell of freshly brewed coffee. A warm hand enveloping hers.</p><p>“Go home, Julie,” she told her, voice void of command or compassion. Julia relaxed and confusion swept over Sophronia. She pulled back immediately. She did enough already. “I’m going to the Lotus today. I’ll put in a word, explain the situation.”</p><p>Julia’s eyes widened and she began shaking her head, muttering something about how she couldn’t fail him. Sophronia almost let her widen at the sound of begging. </p><p>“Julia, I work for him, <em> too </em>.”</p><p>The girl shuddered. The information was new to her. Sophronia picked up the small business card with the lotus on it. Throwing it into the box of Julia’s belongings, she then offered it to her.</p><p>“Go home.”</p><p>And Julia listened. </p><p>❈</p><p>The lair of the Lotus was located in Hell’s Kitchen, not that far from where Sophronia lived. Old and wretched, it smelled of dead fish and the Hudson river that led its stench permeate every possible surface. Sophronia let her bag sway in her hand as she neared the hangers and a residential building circuited by a ten-foot razored fence. She punched in the numbers into the console and slowly walked to the front door through a now-open gate.</p><p>The Lotus was a community of all the vermin that New York could spew out. If you needed a favor, or money, or drugs, or information, you talked to the right people and the Lotus found you. Not very well known among the bigger corporations which worked outside of the law, but notorious enough to make people’s skin crawl. And tying yourself to men with a selfish agenda as the ones here? You could sign a contract handing over your first-born and it would amount to the same thing as finding the first black-and-white card. Once in debt, it’s hard to cut ties without faking your death, being ruled out and hunted or actually dying.</p><p>Behind the front door stood a familiar guard who only nodded at Sophronia as she passed through. And behind the second, the misfits of Manhattan usually lounged in leather sofas, smoking cigarettes and sipping on cheap whisky “imported” from Ireland. There was a help-yourself bar, dimmed lights and the stench of rotting morality that gave the impression of a wanna-be sophisticated foyer. Sophronia knew better than to believe this facade. Junkies and sadists, that’s what people sitting inside were. </p><p>“Vertigo!” one woman named Klara yelled out from one of the armchairs, and Sophronia lifted her hand in greeting. Another thing she didn’t understand about this place: nicknames. Nobody even knew her name, and though Sophronia wasn’t supposed to know theirs, she hated referring to them by their silly word-plays. <em> Knives, Bucks, Jellylegs, </em> the list went on. Her curiosity always got the best of her and she did a background check.</p><p>“Hennessy,” she walked over to them, unwillingly. There was only one group currently inside, playing poker from what she could gather and Klara—or <em> Hennessy </em> —was among them. An accountant with an addiction, a broker who has lost his family’s fortune and a guard, the most curious case of them all. He wasn’t very good at hitting people, but he <em> did </em> look intimidating. “Who’s winning?”</p><p>“Oh, why Hennessy here is,” called the broker with his annoyed groan. “Wouldn’t otherwise call you over if she wasn’t.”</p><p>“That’s right,” grinned the middle-aged woman and hugged the little towers of chips to her chest. “These men have a taste for gambling but can’t stand it the minute they’re losing. And to a woman, nonetheless!”</p><p>Sophronia let Hennessy have her little laugh with a passive face. She had no ties to the other people in here but her and she had other things to do today. “You still owe <em> me </em>, so don’t get too cocky.”</p><p>Hennessy’s face fell a bit. No fear or anxiety, but the change in the playful atmosphere wasn’t enjoyable to her. “You got an appointment with the boss?” she grumbled and looked at her cards again, distancing herself from the chips as if they burned. </p><p>Sophronia nodded. It was an impromptu decision to come here and face the head of the Lotus, but he knew she was coming. The accountant and the guard stayed silent, and watched the hard lines of Sophronia’s face. One of the corners of her mouth quirked up as she turned away from them. “You guys have fun.”</p><p>From within her bag, she pulled out a metal card and walked to the doors across from the ones she came from. The sensor glared green, leaving the four associates’ eyes following her. It had its perks being the one to have updated the security in this hellhole, she had access to every room though she didn’t like spending more time than necessary here. Call it conflict of interests. </p><p>She walked up the stairs, into the damp hallway flanked with more and more doors. At the end, stood two panels of ebony and silver, a bit over the top. Sophronia had to lie when she was asked for her opinion.</p><p>Without knocking, Sophronia opened the door and would have been overwhelmed by the odor of cigars weren’t she already expecting it. The Anatolian carpet lay on the laminate flooring that contrasted well with the stained-wood cabinets on each side of the wall. The evening light changed the dust and smoke floating in the air to gold as Sophronia’s eyes finally landed on the man she came in for. </p><p>Chester Yates was a man who was a little over forty, hazel eyes and blonde hair, you would have thought him an impersonation of a Golden Retriever if you had seen him in the streets. But then again, the scars marring his hands were evidence that this man had endured and done far worse things than one could imagine. </p><p>Yates had given her a helping hand when she first came to New York four years ago and had urged her to get back on her feet. Despite being a selfish asshole with a thirst for money and power, Yates could be nudged into a group of people with the smallest urges of doing good deeds from time to time. She felt like his pro-bono of the decade. </p><p>“Nia, glad to see you,” he said, hunched over his desk and staring into papers. “Must say, I was surprised you asked for a meeting so suddenly. Hadn’t seen you since your last appointment.”</p><p>“The tasks were carried out the way you wanted, if that’s what you’re asking.”</p><p>Yates took a drag of his cigar and offered a packet to her. She refused and instead pulled out her own cigarettes, taking a seat in the dark armchairs. </p><p>“What brings you in?”</p><p>“You don’t trust me.”</p><p>He smirked, as if what she said wasn’t new to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>“I am wondering the same thing. I’ve been working for you for four years.”</p><p>“Doesn’t explain anything.”</p><p>“Two things, Mr. Yates: Why don’t you trust your employees and why do you pick young women to do the job for you?”</p><p>“Why get my hands dirty if somebody else can?”</p><p>“That’s one more road leading back to you, sir. In fact, there are numerous roads leading <em> me </em> to <em> you </em>.”</p><p>Yates propped his chin with his fist. “Do indulge me.” </p><p>“You sent Julie Rivers to shadow me. Young, blonde, smart, rings a bell?” she asked and lit her cigarette.</p><p>He stayed silent, slowly taking drags between his answers. “There are many young things on my payroll that fit that description.”</p><p>“Sir, if we are to maintain the same dynamic as before, there needs to be trust in what I do and how I do it. I <em> am </em> your most reliable source.”</p><p>“There has always been mutual respect between us, Nia.”</p><p>“<em>Was, </em>not anymore,” she corrected him. “I got her fired just today.”</p><p>He hummed in wonder. “How long did it take you to guess? She did spend a long time there.”</p><p>“Three weeks.”</p><p>“My initial guess was one, you’re getting slow, darling.”</p><p>She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “She went rigid when I showed her the Lotus card.”</p><p>Yates didn’t fight the rolling of his eyes. “We’re a notorious organization.”</p><p>“Among the addicts and black hats, not twenty-year-old girls in Ivy Leagues.”</p><p>“What are you asking, Nia? I have a meeting in forty that I really shouldn’t miss and you're stalling.”</p><p>“I’m asking, what are you holding over her head?”</p><p>Eyes at Sophronia, he leaned forward. “What’s it to you?”</p><p>“She went pale as a ghost, I don’t imagine girls like her being tied to the Lotus.”</p><p>Yates sighed and extinguished the cigarette. “The usual. Her daddy was a gambling man, mommy liked the smack too much, money is owed, sharks come back to collect.”</p><p>Sophronia cocked one of her eyebrows, flicking her cigarette into the tray in front of him. “Is it just that? You made her have a crack at me to pay you back?”</p><p>“She was ambitious, willing. A thing you rarely witness in anyone but the junkies. Pitiful creatures. I could have made her do worse things, Sophronia.” There was not an ounce of pity or remorse on his face. She frowned. </p><p>“She’s barely an adult.”</p><p>“Twenty is old enough,” he shrugged.</p><p>“She can’t even drink.”</p><p>“I recall you were heavily drinking when I took you in.”</p><p>Sophronia sighed, the reminder was only adding insult to injury. “You’re going to destroy her life before it even starts. All because her folks made a mistake.” </p><p>“Mistakes, plural. Do <em> you </em> consider coming to me a mistake? No. Her parents were consenting adults, all grown up and conscious of what they were doing. And, Sophronia, Julie was barely a year old when they borrowed for the first time. This goes way back.”</p><p>“You had a choice to turn them away.”</p><p>“I did, but they did, too.”</p><p>“It was either going homeless with a baby or owing.”</p><p>“If I denied them,” he started slowly, looking Sophronia in the eye, “I would lose business and turn out to be the bad guy in their eyes. This business I’m in doesn’t have a place for mercy. You forgive one thing and then the whole house falls into shambles.” He flicked his hand, gesturing around as he spoke in his typical drawl. “I have people under me that have other people under them, this is a matter of how things work. Yes, it is cruel and sometimes I take from those who have nothing else to give, but not if they didn’t involve themselves in this first. I have lost enough sleep over the issue and I’m not willing to lose breath explaining my reasons to you of all people. We all live with our parents’ mistakes, some more than others.”</p><p>Sophronia didn’t stop frowning at him throughout his monologue. She knew all that, understood all that, yet she felt like she was just given a pep-talk by one of her teachers in school. Yates cocked his head to the side and then refocused on whatever paperwork was in front of him. </p><p>There were more things eating at her as she finished her smokes and started another one. Yates’s distrust was one of them, but she’ll deal with that later. </p><p>Images of Julie Rivers, young and competent, were fleeing before her—then they turned more sullen, with the debt hanging over her head. As years went on in the imaginary reel of Julie, Sophronia could vividly imagine the girl meeting life’s end before her time. </p><p>“I’ll take on her debt, but you don’t contact her again,” she blurted out before fully thinking it through. She lifted her eyes to meet Yates’s. He had his lazy smirk on his face, as if he already expected this outcome. Her rent just doubled, the paycheck from Stark Industries will barely cover her rent, let alone the other expenses. She’ll need to call the debts from the Lotus sooner than she anticipated. </p><p>“That will cost ya,” he warned but Sophronia only shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. </p><p>“Hit me.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The One with Old Acquaintances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nia was exhausted by the time she reached her home in Hell’s Kitchen. It was a studio apartment, situated on the top floor with an <em> incredible </em> view of the other ragged-looking buildings. Right now, she couldn’t care less for the less-than-amazing sight. Her feet felt like she climbed Mount Everest. Her spine carried a year’s worth of worries after only one day of work that was not even that demanding. Then the tiredness reached her core and clouded her mind. All she wanted to do was sleep.</p><p>With a sigh that she was sure her neighbor could hear, she peeled off the sweaty leather jacket. Her worst purchase, she was sure. It was already beginning to peel, the leather shown to be more fake than real, and she decided she won’t buy another piece of clothing from the man on the corner of 22nd. Ever. No matter the promises of inexpensive-but-quality jackets. </p><p>She first went to feed her fish. Half a dozen of them swam around the aquarium, already used to the strange feeding routine. They were waiting for her, as always. Her nail soundlessly dragged across the glass and the corners of her mouth turned slightly upward as the fish followed the finger. One was in the corner, ignoring Nia’s banter with its friends. </p><p>“I get it, you’re hungry,” Nia muttered under her breath and grabbed the can of fish food. She flipped the lid open as all six of them rose to the surface, eager. “I’m here to save the day.”</p><p>She gave them a bit more than she intended to, a warning from an assistant in Petsmart going through her head. </p><p>
  <em> Their appetite is much bigger than their stomach, don’t be too generous!  </em>
</p><p>Entranced with the flailing fish and the salty smell of their food, she just stood there. Pieces of routine were falling into place. For a moment, she let go of the fatigue coiling her stomach tight. Her hands relaxed as the moonlight barely cast shadows on the ground. The beams of light were making their way through the aquarium, twisting and turning into weird shapes. The white noise of New York City dissipated into a superficial peace. </p><p>“I’m never not going to find it weird you talk to them.”</p><p>Without a second thought, Nia reached for the knife on the table (she always had a few lying around) and threw it at the voice. A reflex she quickly regretted as she saw the bent-over, onyx-haired woman. The blade was stuck right between the eyes of Freddy Mercury. The woman’s hands were covering her head, while her tiny body crouched down. </p><p>“Christ, <em> Eva </em>,” Nia gasped and went to pluck the knife out. “I told you not to creep on me like that!”</p><p>Eva straightened, putting her hands at her hips. “Why is your first instinct to attack?”</p><p>“I <em> could’ve </em>hit you!”</p><p>“Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t enjoy that.”</p><p>Evalla was beaming at her now and that made Sophronia smile, too. Her pearly-white grin was contagious, she couldn’t help it. Although her stance told you she thought she was the tallest in any room, she was still a head short of Nia. The grey of her eyes would be paralyzing weren’t it for the dark they were submerged in. </p><p>It’s not that Nia didn’t survey the room when she entered. No, she wasn’t that careless, although the exhaustion made it hard to care for anything else than sleep. Her friend had <em> a gift </em> . Evalla had the ability to <em> cloak </em> herself from the vision of others, be faster and stronger than an ordinary person, forge weapons and create shields in opaque black, impenetrable. And it all fit her personality, too. </p><p>Nia hadn’t heard from Evalla in days, as she probably disappeared on one of her many secretive quests, but she was glad her only acquaintance was back. Giving her a scare was something of a mantra to them both. Whenever Eva returned to town, she’d pop in to say hello, make sure Nia is still standing upright and not sleeping in a ditch somewhere. </p><p>And as Evalla stood in front of Sophronia—looking not a day past twenty despite it soon being her fortieth birthday—she forgave her friend for scaring the Holy Ghost out of her. </p><p>“You smell like a cesspool,” Eva retorted and threw herself into Nia’s chair. Behind her, two monitors, a keyboard and the computer case stood on the desk. </p><p>“I <em> feel </em>like a cesspool.” Nia sighed and turned on the machine next to Eva. Asking her if she wanted a cup of coffee, Evalla only shook her head.</p><p>“It’s almost midnight. You shouldn’t even be thinking about caffeine, child.”</p><p>The younger woman narrows her eyes. “I’ve got work to do,” she muttered and put the water to boil. “Besides, did you know that he’s thinking of cutting me off?”</p><p>Feigning surprise, Eva raised her eyebrows and clicked her tongue. “You already know what <em> I’m </em>thinking.”</p><p>And it was true. Nia knew the expression on her friend’s face all too well. It was always present whenever the topic of her employer came to be mentioned. Not Stark, though. Evalla was in love with Stark. </p><p>When they met, both of the women had been working under the Lotus for quite some time. Different fields, but still. While Nia worked from home most of the time, only rarely stopping by in person, Eva knew her way around the compound as if she grew up there. It was a small apartment building on the outskirts of town, thought to be a cleaning service. </p><p>The circumstance of their meeting perfectly summarizes the dynamic of their relationship. While Nia was in Chester Yates’s office, talking numbers and strategies, Evalla waltzed in, not even batting an eyelash that there was a fresh face around. With an opal dagger near his throat, Eva was demanding where the other half of her paycheck had disappeared. Quite frankly, Nia (at that time anyway) hadn’t been too familiar with the man in front of her, but it surprised her to see the cold sweat begin to shimmer on his face along with a smile. She found it fascinating that a woman could hold so much power over somebody that was thought to be untouchable. </p><p>She also regarded that the weapon the stranger was holding disappeared into thin air once Yates pointed to a drawer. It dissipated into mist and then altogether. That was when Evalla’s storm-grey eyes caught Nia’s attentive ones.</p><p>Their friendship was like that. Quiet, but caring. Held at distance, but always there to help one another out of the rough. My thieves, Chester would call them. </p><p>They never got to collaborate with each other—mainly because their professions were polar opposites in a way. But they spent a lot of time together drinking beer or training. Once Eva got a confession out of Nia that she had powers she was not willing to utilize—which was a slip-up during their first outing and she blacked out immediately afterwards—, she never let her be idle for too long. </p><p>After two years under Yates’s supervision, Nia heard that Evalla apparently left with a bang. In a more literal sense of word, anyway. She never tells her what goes in her life.</p><p>(Some would say there were feelings involved, but Eva doesn’t acknowledge she has <em> any </em>.)</p><p>As more time went on, Eva was more absent from New York City than not. Nia was her only tie to this place. And also her only place to crash at any time. </p><p>“If I knew what you were thinking,” Nia told her, “I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you.”</p><p>“Please, all you have to do is <em> touch me </em> to know.” </p><p>Nia turned at the sultry husk of her voice. For a second they only stared at each other. Nia’s eyes were wide with terror, but when Eva winked, both of them burst into cackles. </p><p>“Seriously, though, it’s high time you ditch the Lotus,” Eva said and spun in the chair.</p><p>Her words were on point, too truthful, in fact. She should’ve left when Eva did two years ago. But she was far too deep and there were still debts within the Lotus that hadn’t been repaid. She needed a bit more time. Yates breathing down her neck wasn’t helping one bit. The water boiled over. </p><p>“Did he tell you that?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That he’s letting you go.” Eva gestured as if everything she was saying was obvious. “He doesn’t really do that thing. Firing people, I mean.”</p><p>“No, he, uh,” Nia scratched at her neck, filling her cup to the brim. “He got a woman to be my secretary and to spy on me.” </p><p>Eva chuckled. “As in an actual woman?”</p><p>Nia smiled at her. “No, a fake one.” The memory of Julie’s teary eyes turned the corners of her mouth upside down. “I saw her going through my things when she’d thought I clocked off. I got her fired, figured it’d be better for her.”</p><p>“Goodness, was she at least trained? Don’t answer. If you caught her, I already know.”</p><p>“It’s not that she was completely oblivious to how things worked, Eva. I bet that if she had more time, she’d get into my computer.”</p><p>“Wait, I thought she was, like, going through your planner, not your actual stuff.”</p><p>Nia sighed. “I’m not stupid enough to keep things out in the open like that. She never got past the first step, but surprisingly, left <em> no </em> digital footprint.” Eva hummed at that, though she had no idea what the words themselves actually meant. She was never smart when it came to technology. She still had a flip phone. When Nia saw it, she wanted to slap her upside the head. “I went to him tonight to straighten out things, he acted dodgy about it.”</p><p>“But why would he send her?”</p><p>“I have no idea,” she murmured, leaning on the counter. “Maybe he thinks I betrayed him or that I’m selling intel to someone else. Could be a plethora of things.”</p><p>“If he thinks you’ve betrayed him, you wouldn’t be standing there.”</p><p>They both cringed at the thought. Nia agreed. Chester Yates was infamous for the way he chose to get rid of people. She picked up her mug and shooed Eva from her chair. Evalla ignored her. </p><p>“I was assigned a few new cases and the sooner I get into it, the better,” Sophronia nudged her.</p><p>“You’re throwing me out?” Eva asked, her shiny black hair sweeping to one side. </p><p>“Indirectly, yes.”</p><p>“Such a homebody, you are. Let’s go out, I missed the overpriced and disgusting beer of New York!”</p><p>“It’s Tuesday, Evalla.” Nia shook her head and took a sip from her coffee. </p><p>The woman only smirked from her chair, stood up and picked up the discarded jacket from the floor. It hung in the air between them as she held it out for Sophronia to take. “So what? I bet Higgy’s is open.”</p><p>❈</p><p>The Higgy’s Torch—or as everyone called it, Higgy’s—was the sort of establishment where, whatever day it was, there would always be at least two tables occupied. On Fridays, it was a hotspot for overworked people who spent their weekdays stuffed in suits and dresses. </p><p>The smoke was familiar when the two women walked in, no amount of air conditioning could get it out. People who came to Higgy’s usually minded their own business, either talking among themselves or playing pool in the back, silently drinking their beverages. Nobody paid them any mind as they slipped into their rightful places at the bar. To them, they were a harmless pair of girls. </p><p>For change, it was Nia who introduced Evalla to this hole in the wall. Her face when she first stepped in told Nia enough to know that it would be The Higgy’s Torch they’d become regulars at. Even if Eva wasn’t in town, sometimes she would pop in for a beer on her own. No matter the sour smell of liquor that hung in every crook and cranny, the owner always served them with a smile. It wasn’t high-end by any means, but it felt like home.</p><p>Her mug with a brand new blend had to stay at home, untouched and getting cold. Nia groaned and ordered the first thing with caffeine. </p><p>Evalla snorted as she wiped the beer foam from her cupid’s bow. “I bet your sleeping schedule didn’t improve. You know, it’s not good for you.”</p><p>“You’re telling me what’s good for me?” Nia cocked her eyebrow, taking a sip of her <em> Redbull </em>. “The last time I saw you, you had a knife in your shoulder blade.”</p><p>It wasn’t that Evalla was careless or didn’t know how to fight. With her armoire of powers she didn’t need to have that knowledge. All she had to do was disappear. But even when she was cloaked, she was still susceptible to getting hit. And when somebody throws a knife in the dark, there's a probability it’ll hit you. A low probability, but one nonetheless.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, that night was a zinger.”</p><p>“Where have you been all week?” Nia asked. </p><p>“In D.C., just some loose ends that needed to be tied up. Nothing to worry about, child.” Something of a protesting sound came out of Nia’s throat at the nickname. </p><p>Evalla looked into Nia’s dark eyes and most likely noted the sullen expression the owner of it couldn’t help but have. Nia’s skin was much darker and more sullen than Eva’s, but then again, everyone’s was. One would think that she’s allergic to the sun by the way she avoids it like plague. But putting all that aside, she had had to note the circles under her eyes. Even Nia noticed her expression in the windows of Higgy’s when they arrived. Fighting the urge to frown, she accepted looking positively under the weather with little resistance.</p><p>Eva grinned, taking a big gulp of her beer. “C’mon, let’s play some darts.”</p><p>It was as if Evalla always knew how to get Nia to smile. When proposing darts, she was a hundred percent aware of what was bound to happen. They would play, at first Nia would let Eva lead the way. Then Eva would start drilling Nia about her training, irritating her. That would get her annoyed and make her competitive. Nia would win once, twice and then the third time before finally moving onto the pool. Nia’s victorious smile would light up the room. </p><p>They were barely one round in when a wave of odd familiarity washed over Nia. She looked around, scanning the room, but nothing seemed out of sorts. She did a once over, even stole a peek at Eva—who was currently wiggling her bottom while she pointed the shaft at the cue ball—but everything appeared as it should have. Normal. </p><p>Yet that feeling didn’t go away for another ten minutes. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door open. It intensified.</p><p>Nia stepped closer and reached out to touch Evalla. Her friend almost moved away, thinking it was an accident. She knew Nia’s boundaries and touching was far past the line. Upon seeing the expression on her face, she straightened her back, too, ignoring the winning streak she was on. </p><p>It’s been a few months since they have communicated like this, noiselessly and only with their minds. Still, Nia was immensely grateful to find a wall built high and thick. She taught her this. The risk of there being people like her was one Nia was not willing to take. While Eva trained her how to shield herself physically, Nia taught her how to do it around her mind. She just hoped she kept it up while they were apart, too. </p><p>Sophronia found the tiniest crack in it and a small thread hanging out of it. She pulled on it, allowing them to communicate. With her hand on Eva’s skin, she opened up the feeling of familiarity. </p><p><em> ‘Go home,’ </em> she told her, the steps behind her were getting louder, nearer. Too rhythmic, too familiar. ‘ <em> Go to the bathroom, cloak yourself and leave.’ </em></p><p>❈</p><p>“You didn’t need to ask your friend to leave,” the voice said. Nia didn’t turn, instead watched Evalla make her way to the bathroom. She fought the urge to conjure a dagger in her hand and ram it into the man’s thigh. </p><p>Lightly sighing, she gripped the shaft and leaned over the table. “What are you doing here?” Nia asked with an empty voice and sent a ball into a hole with a clank. Daring to only acknowledge the man in a black suit next to her in her peripheral vision, she moved around the table. </p><p>“You’re a hard woman to reach.”</p><p>Nia scoffed, “I have a feeling it really wasn’t that difficult.”</p><p>“I have my ways.”</p><p>She felt a hand on her back; a signal from Evalla that she was leaving. Sophronia straightened her back and let herself meet the man’s eye. </p><p>His other brown eye was covered with an eyepatch, small scars peeking from under the black leather matching his suit. Another ghost from her past that wouldn’t stop haunting her, the director of SHIELD stood rod-straight in front of her as if it was the most normal thing to do. A neat suit in a decaying bar, he couldn’t have put himself more in the spotlight if he tried.  </p><p>“When was the last time we saw each other?” Nick Fury asked and smelled Nia’s beer, furrowing his brows at the odd smell. He handed it to her, a silent beckoning to finish it. </p><p>“Two years, give or take,” Sophronia muttered and wiped her mouth. “That was when I sent you to hell.”</p><p>“I’m here because of something pressing,” Fury said with his deep voice and crossed his hands in front of him. The hand on her back disappeared and Sophronia almost audibly sighed with annoyance. The audacity that this man had.  </p><p>“My services are off the table, Nick.” </p><p>“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here because of that.”</p><p>“Aren’t you, though?” she looked up again and sunk the last ball, leaving only the white cue ball tumbling around the green table stained with ash. </p><p>“That’s a different conversation we need to have.” Nick leaned his hand on his hip, unintentionally revealing a loaded pistol. “I’d like you to come back for a few days.”</p><p>Her eyebrows shot up and she shook her head, putting the shaft where Evalla left hers. “You’re growing cocky.”</p><p>“Give me a chance to explain and you’ll change your mind,” he said as Nia went to the bar.</p><p>“No, I really don’t think so.”</p><p>He lifted his hand upon seeing her wallet and paid for the beers. Nia muttered something about how she could have done that herself, but Fury only waved his hand. Leaving through the front door, he remained incessant. </p><p>Sophronia pulled out her phone and sent a message to Evalla telling her to wait home and not to worry. A poor attempt of convincing her everything was fine with the way she freaked out on her a few minutes ago. She simply didn’t want Evalla to know about this part of her past before she was ready. Some groveling she would need to do later… </p><p>Even out in the street, the rhythmic footsteps of the director felt like a daunting reminder of who he was and where he had come from. Despite the sympathies she held for this man, he could easily become someone she was annoyed with. So often she failed to understand his reasons, she hoped this time would be different.</p><p>“There’s far more at stake, Venere,” he said, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Problems beyond your own.”</p><p>“SHIELD is more than capable of taking care of problems. Isn’t that your main goal? Solving problems so other people won’t have to?”</p><p>Fury gave her a look and she clenched her teeth. </p><p>“Alright, then,” she sighed and fought to stay rational, fought to not run off home. “What’s the deal?”</p><p>“Right now, it’s confidential.”</p><p>“Oh, what’s new?” she whispered and turned a corner. The big, black car belonging to Fury was already waiting there. Her steps faltered and she met Fury’s eye. </p><p>“But once you get in, I’ll answer you.”</p><p>❈</p><p>They sat in this silence for close to an hour. The light from the lampposts illuminated their faces, accentuating the valleys under their eyes. Both Nia and Nick seemed not to be catching any sleep lately. Nia needed to initiate the conversation, one that was long overdue even before she entered the car of the SHIELD director. </p><p>“So… What’s going on?” she asked, head turned to Fury. He seemed to be in deep thought, most likely mulling over the way he was going to approach the subject. His hold on the steering wheel relaxed a bit, fingers drummed an unknown and random beat. His eye, though, hardened as he spared Nia a stringent look.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Steve Rogers.”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Nia feigned agreement. “He was all over the news late last year, right?”</p><p>“The information was released in February, good try.” Nia bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smirking at getting caught in lies. “I’ve told you countless times not to snoop around our files. They’re confidential for a reason. Not to mention how many times I had to cancel a meeting because of your breaches.”</p><p>He didn’t sound disappointed, more amused than anything. Sophronia let her smirk show itself. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. By the way, your security levels surely got better. I almost worked up a sweat.”</p><p>“We can have you flushed out the second we want to, Venere,” he said with a flat voice and spared her another look</p><p>“Oh, yeah, I have no doubts about that. It’s not like, I don’t know, I helped with the infrastructure. So what about Captain America?” she asked and focused on her road ahead, uncomfortable with the familiarity of Nicholas Fury and their banter. </p><p>“We’re going to see him. He’s been in ice for almost seventy years and we need him now.”</p><p>“Ice?” she asked, a bit baffled. “How’s that possible?”</p><p>“Most likely the serum he was injected with, we can only guess.”</p><p>“Why do we need him?”</p><p>Fury sighed. “The world we knew twenty years ago isn’t the same we live in today. There’s more threats with each passing year and we’re facing a pretty big one right now. We might need him on our side in case things go south.”</p><p>Sophronia’s interest was piqued. “Why would they go south?”</p><p>“You know the Tesseract, right?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“It’s been stolen.”</p><p>She let out a nervous laugh. “You let someone steal the cube from you? Again?”</p><p>Fury slowly put the car in park, his face growing darker at the memory of the events that happened just yesterday. “Something caused the Tesseract to behave abnormally. We evacuated the whole facility where it was held.” He paused and Nia urged him to continue. “We don’t exactly know what happened per se but the cube opened a portal. An extraterrestrial named Loki came through it and took the Tesseract with him. The whole premises collapsed in on itself. 86 agents died.”</p><p>Nia leaned back against the car seat. An alien invasion? “Good Lord… What’s your next step?”</p><p>Fury took the key from the ignition and turned to his companion. “Talk to Rogers, present him with a mission.”</p><p>“He works for SHIELD now?”</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>She rolls her eyes. “I get it, a stupid question.”</p><p>Fury asked her to get the envelopes from the glove compartment as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “You coming or what?”</p><p>“I have work in precisely,” she peered at her phone, “seven hours.”</p><p>“And?” he inquired as they got out of the car.</p><p>“Think you can have me home by my curfew?”</p><p>“I’ll tuck you in, personally.”</p><p>“Like the good old times?”</p><p>“Sure.” He ushered her inside.</p><p>Nia kept up with Fury’s step as she opened the file on top. Containing the picture of a blue shining cube, she immediately noticed the clearance<em> level 7 </em> requirement on top. She whistled as they walked through the locker room.</p><p>“Rogers is already a Seven?” she jeered.</p><p>“With an ordeal like this clearance levels are a trifle.”</p><p>“I was just asking.”</p><p>The room already smelled foul, sweaty. The hall began to fill with echoes of sharp exhales and fists meeting a punching bag. Walking through the door frame, her eyes fell against the broad shouldered man who was boxing in a frenzy. </p><p>The muscles on Steve Rogers’s face were contorted, strained and taut as he sent one punch after another to the sack of sand. He was in his own world, probably unaware of anything but the raging confusion pouring out of him.</p><p>“Looks a bit out of it,” Nia commented. “He’s angry, too.”</p><p>“He’s still adjusting.”</p><p>“I’m not blaming him.”</p><p>Just as she finished the sentence, the bag he was punching was sent flying across the gym. The sand was spilling out as Steve was just breathing in and out, eyebrows pulled together. He hung up another punching bag, entranced.</p><p>Fury snatched one file out of Nia’s hands and called out to Steve, “Trouble sleeping?”</p><p>His hand motioned for Sophronia to stay behind. She sighed and went to sit at the bench instead. If she wasn’t getting in on the action of meeting Rogers, she’ll at least be comfortable.</p><p>Rogers stopped punching and looked at Fury in focus. His eyes grazed Nia, too, but he didn’t pay too much attention to her. He must have thought her to be just another agent of Fury’s. But, Lord, he couldn’t be further from the truth.</p><p>So that’s the Captain everyone seems to fuss about. A man out of time.</p><p>“I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I’ve had my fill,” Steve muttered and Nia only saw his back as he started to unwrap the gauze.</p><p>“Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world.”</p><p>Nia opened the one file he left her in anticipation. Fury’s words were soon drowned out. Her always-shaky hands brushed the front page. A photo that welcomed her was one of herself. She was only eighteen when it was taken and she still remembered the day as if it were yesterday. Eyes so bright and hopeful, she wondered what went wrong.</p><p>The title of the file was what caused her breath to hitch a little.</p><p>
  <em> The Avengers Initiative. </em>
</p><p>As far as Nia was aware, this initiative was shut down years ago. Just another one of Fury’s ideas that never got to see the light of day. So what was her file doing inside this particular envelope?</p><p>She flipped the page.</p><p>The names she read through she knew. Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark. She was familiar enough to ascribe faces to the names. Her years at SHIELD gave her enough knowledge around its database, though, seeing her name written in red pen among theirs caused ire to simmer up to the surface. This was going against their agreement.</p><p>Sophronia was ready to turn to the next page but heavy steps forced her to look up to see who was headed her way.</p><p>“Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?” Fury asked Steve, just as the man walked through the door frame, making it look tiny.</p><p>“You should’ve left it in the ocean.”</p><p>For a moment Steve and Nia locked eyes. They both had frowns on their faces, the icy blue meeting the angry brown. Both were very much displeased with the situation. The irksome circumstances certainly hadn’t aided in creating a good undertone for their acquaintance. And just as fast as the two made a connection, it disappeared with Steve walking away. </p><p>Addressing Fury, who’s standing in the gym head down, she sighed, “Does he know or is he kept in the dark about this?”</p><p>“You and Stark are the only people who know, as of know.”</p><p>In silence they left the gym, avoiding the supersoldier. But out on the street, the cold air—as much as it made Nia’s exhaustion ease—provoked curiosity.</p><p>“Wasn’t this shut down years ago?” she asked Fury.</p><p>“I revived it, considering the situation.”</p><p>“And the Council is okay with this?”</p><p>“When are they ever?” Fury sneered as they entered the car.</p><p>“Right… And what do you want from me? To join your little team of Avengers? Ridiculous name, by the way.”</p><p>Now was Fury’s turn to roll his eyes heavenwards. “Whether you join or not, that part’s up to you. As always. It’s just a suggestion, a thing to keep in mind in the future.”</p><p>“You know the answer, then.”</p><p>“I guessed you’d say that. There’s one other thing. If the situation does escalate, I’d feel much better if you were on the Carrier with us than on the ground.”</p><p>“I can take care of myself, director,” Nia retorted, although the possibility of an alien wreaking havoc on the world would make anyone tremble.</p><p>“That’s not what I’m saying.” Fury shot back, sternly. He asked for her address and then continued with his lecturing. “Loki, he’s not something we’ve dealt with before and to tell you the truth, we have no idea what he's planning to do with Earth. But I can tell you, it’s not braiding each other’s hair and having sleepovers. Do you know what he said after bullets bounced off of him like they were made of rubber and after he turned my best men against me? He said, he came to cleanse this word, free it of its freedom. Do you understand what I’m trying to get at?”</p><p>“He turned someone on you? How?”</p><p>Fury gripped the steering wheel, already anticipating the questions. He knew she’d leach onto one thing she didn’t understand. “Loki had a scepter. He touched them with it and they started obeying him. We don’t have much explanation other than that.”</p><p>Nia studied his expression with great detail. Tried to notice every twitch of an eyebrow or a muscle. “Who?” As he stayed silent, Nia pressed some more, “Who, Nicholas?”</p><p>“Selvig, Barton, some other agents.”</p><p>At the mention of Hawkeye, Nia sucked in a breath of surprise, promptly blowing it out. “Do you know where they are?”</p><p>Fury stretched his neck, trying not to let his nerves show. He’s had enough for today. Though, he knew that all would not calm down so soon. “We have people looking for them; facial recognition, scans, the whole nine yards. We will find them.”</p><p>Nia leaned deep into the cushion of the carseat as she looked outside of the window and at the empty streets of Manhattan.</p><p>She went over every word he said tonight, the way he approached her and how he broke it all to her. He insisted on her presence during this crisis. The tight knuckles, the way he stretched and slightly squinted his eyes; these were signs she picked up from being around him for years. This was not an offer, not a friendly call for help, not an outstretched hand nor a sign of friendship. This was a command. He was afraid. It all clicked in her head.</p><p>“You want me on the Carrier so Loki doesn’t somehow think to use me.” It was more of a statement than a question.</p><p>Fury nodded. “Council and I agreed that it would be for the best if you came with us.”</p><p>“He doesn’t even know telepaths exist. This is just stupid. I wouldn’t let him just take me.”</p><p>“It’s not stupid. We can’t let Loki even have a chance of getting to you.”</p><p>“And you’re doing this for my safety or the safety of others?”</p><p>Only silence on Fury’s part. He was a simple misstep away from Nia losing her cool. Her eyebrows were shut tight together, her hands shook as she squeezed her knees. It was all obvious to Fury, he knew that she wouldn’t like it. They knew each other’s ticks like family.</p><p>“What if I refuse? Are you going to cuff me and drag me onboard?”</p><p>“This is a question of national safety, Venere,” he told her in a fatherly tone. “I’d have one less thing to worry about knowing you’re out of Loki’s reach.”</p><p>“I have a daytime job, a life away from my powers. I cannot disappear into thin air for God-knows how long.”</p><p>“You call that desk job at Stark’s and working with ex-convicts a life?” She gave him a nasty glare. “What? You think we don’t know about your little jobs? Please.”</p><p>Nia watched the eye-patched man with careful evaluation. It was well obvious that she hadn't made her decision yet, she needed time to think, though it was not like she had a choice.</p><p>“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“Except I do.” He stopped the car and Nia recognized the familiar concrete of Hell’s Kitchen. “The Headquarters, 0900. No waiting.”</p><p>“I can’t disappear,” she tried to reason.</p><p>“You did it once, you’ll do it again. Ask for a PTO.”</p><p>“Too short of a notice.”</p><p>“A family emergency.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable.” She stared at him a moment longer. He motioned to the car door and commanded her to brief herself with the file he left her.</p><p>“0900. Good night, kid.”</p><p>She wished him one as well as she slammed the door. Nia pulled out her last cigarette from the case and lit it, watching her dear acquaintance speed off into New York's dawn.</p><p><em> Time to prepare</em>, she told herself and blew the smoke from her nostrils as the bitterness seeped into the air, <em> to prepare for something that's bound to change everything</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The One with Agents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Who the hell was that?” is the first thing Evalla said when Sophronia walked into her apartment. She was standing at her kitchen sink, hands on hips and looking mighty serious. Sophronia only eyed her tiny form from the doorway, not even fully inside. </p><p>“Hello to you, too,” she said to her friend and kicked the door shut, throwing the SHIELD file on the counter.</p><p>“You were gone for three hours,” Eva countered.</p><p> The sky behind the windows was bleeding from black to blue in a slow haze as Sophronia took in the state of her apartment. She frowned at the way her sink glinted in the overhead light and walked over to it, examining it. </p><p>“Did you clean my apartment?” she inquired upon the spotless surface of her kitchen. Evalla nudged Sophronia’s shoulder as she pulled out a bottle of rum and two glasses from the cabinet above their heads. </p><p>“I’m being serious, Nia. I know we have this unspoken agreement not to meddle in our pasts,” she accepted the half-full glass, “but who was that man with an eye-patch? You sounded like you knew each other.”</p><p>She walked to the window only to catch an old Prius parked across the street, a lone man sitting inside, looking right up into her window. He nodded at her and Nia shut the blinds on each of the windows.</p><p>Sophronia took a long sip and sat down at her computer, facing Evalla. The thought of going through that file, the man spying on her home, the ever-questioning Eva and the jobs she had on her roaster made her want to groan. There was no way she would get anything done at SHIELD and this crisis might put her days, if not weeks, behind her schedule. </p><p>“He’s an old friend,” Sophronia said while her empty hand rubbed her face. “He was the one who brought me up after my dad died.”</p><p>“<em>He</em> was your guardian? Jesus—” Evalla cringed, probably recalling his scars.</p><p>“Believe me, growing up and seeing a man with one eye who calls himself <em> Fury </em> is scary enough,” she said and frowned.</p><p>Eva sat on Nia’s bed, letting her face scrunch up the way it did when she was thinking. “Fury? As in Nick Fury?” Sophronia nodded. “So you grew up at SHIELD, then.”</p><p>With a deep breath, she hummed her assent. Evalla’s expression was one of wonder and deep, deep curiosity. “How do you know about them?” Sophronia asked.</p><p>Evalla began chewing on her lower lip, her voice distant and cautious. “I witnessed them raiding a base I was at while doing recon a few years back. That was before I met you. They had this man with a bow, took out the majority of them like a pro. Robin Hood reborn, I swear. I did some research on them and then dug myself a hole.”</p><p>“How did you do your research if you don’t even know how to <em> google </em>something?” Sophronia asked with a smug look and her friend responded with a middle finger. </p><p>“I’ve got people for that. In fact, I’ve got people for everything.”</p><p>They snickered at that together. “Sure you do.”</p><p>Eva then fell quiet and watched the brown liquid swirl around the over-priced crystal glasses Sophronia bought to feel a bit better about drinking alone. </p><p>“You can ask,” she whispered and Eva looked up. </p><p>Biting the inside of her cheek, Eva watched as the younger woman gulped down the liquor and poured herself another serving. “Why did you leave them?” she asked, her voice as silent as Nia’s.</p><p>“What do you exactly know about SHIELD?”</p><p>“They deal with state security and intelligence. Military, terrorism and all that jazz. I heard it paid really well.”</p><p>Nia pulled her lips into a tight line. “You got the gist, though the salary was shit,” she murmured. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. That’s what that acronym means. By the way, they’ve got a thing for acronyms.”</p><p>Eva cocked her brow, Sophronia only smiled. </p><p>“They don’t oversee only the military, though. They’ve got their own research departments and technology advancement labs. They work on all sorts of things to stabilize world peace and what-not. That’s why my dad was hired, he was a scientist, a really smart one.”</p><p>Eva looked down at her feet, as if something weighed her down. She mindlessly tapped her nails on the cut crystal, a bit lost in memories.  </p><p>“Dad knew Fury from somewhere, he was hired and we moved to the US.”</p><p>“Where did you grow up?”</p><p>“Southern France. I’m not speaking french in front of you, so don’t even ask.”</p><p>“I’m not promising anything.”</p><p>They smiled at one another. “Anyways, one thing led to another and he never came back from one of his research missions. Fury was my legal guardian by my father’s wishes and I stayed in Washington. Kept attending school and all that.”</p><p>“And you had your powers back then?” Eva asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” she mumbled, scratching her jaw. “SHIELD figured soon enough. When I turned eighteen, I started working for them. Small things at first, I was kept under the wraps. Only Fury and three other agents really knew what I could do. But one day, I was—I just left.”</p><p>“And they let you go? Just like that?” Eva asked with a small smirk, but Sophronia could see the inexplicable tension in her shoulders. </p><p>The memories from the day she burst into Fury’s office were a distant blur. She couldn’t really recall the things she said or what she had done, she only remembered going back home and packing for New York City—and four years have passed since that moment. <em> The way time flies </em>, she thinks to herself.</p><p>“Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>“Why did he come back, though?” Evalla asked and Sophronia noticed the way she stole a peek at the folder lying on the kitchen counter. </p><p>“If I told you it was serious enough for you to get the hell out of the state, would you listen?”</p><p>“I don’t need a reason to get out of New York, I hate it here,” she sent her a cocky grin that soon melted into a soft smile. “But, yes, I will listen to you. I trust your judgement.”</p><p>“Thank you, Evalla.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Sophronia,” Evalla said and stood up, grabbing her possessions. “You got my emergency number if anything happens, right?”</p><p>“Yes, I got it on my burner.” Sophronia pointed to the phone that sat on her computer desk—an old Nokia that looked out of place between the high-end monitors and touchscreens. </p><p>“For someone who loves technology so much, you don’t have a phone from this century.”</p><p>“That’s because I know how things work, Evalla, and having a phone without a GPS is what I prefer.”</p><p>“Mine can’t do much, either.”</p><p>“Good, don’t upgrade it.”</p><p>Sophronia walked her friend to the front door and whispered, “Also, there’s a SHIELD guy outfront, so use the back entrance.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>And with a salute, Evalla disappeared into thin air.</p><p> </p><p>❈</p><p> </p><p>Sopronia followed the movements of the watch’s hand as it neared nine. Standing in front of the massive, fifty-story building, a mirth escaped her. The door to SHIELD’s Headquarters was a great reminder of why she was here and why there were now two agents following her. One in that atrocious Prius parked just a few feet away and the other across the street, a phone to her ear.</p><p>It seemed the director always had a plan B, C and then all the way to Z. A question that was unanswered yesterday had a clear answer today.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Are you going to cuff me and drag me onboard?’ </em>
</p><p>Truth be told, Nia didn’t want to return to SHIELD ever again. For the past four years it has been something she would almost immediately answer to with a ‘no’. But either way, she picked up the file from her counter after Evalla left. She read through each word, drank a cup of coffee and three glasses of rum and upon finishing the last paragraph, she knew. She knew that to go was the most logical answer. She knew it and Fury knew it, too. <em> Problems beyond her own. </em></p><p>As much apprehension as she felt in her stomach, she packed up her things into a duffel bag, looked at the aquarium beneath her window and shook her head. The few goldfish that she had swimming around followed her fingers. Nia had no idea how long she would be gone. It could be a day, two or a week. Thankful that she bought an automatic feeder she finally put it to use.</p><p>Now she was smoking the first cigarette of the day in front of that damned building. She watched the clock’s hand tick to nine and then watched it hit 9:01. She watched the man get out of his car and watched the other woman cross the street. Both were headed her way with their stoic faces. Her convictions were proven right.</p><p>She stomped on the cigarette butt and picked up her bag. The agents were mere ten feet away from her as she waved at them. Her heart was pounding despite her hard demeanor. And with a deep breath, and a bit of unwillingness, Nia pushed the glass door and headed for the front desk. The only reminders of the two agents were shadows they left in their departure as just another New Yorkers.</p><p>A hand landed on Nia’s shoulder before she could reach the front desk—she flinched and turned around. She was met with steel blue eyes of a man in a suit.</p><p>"Agent Coulson," she addressed him with a surprised nod. He pulled out a hand for her to shake but Sophronia ignored it. </p><p>“Sorry,” he said upon the realization, his smile warm. “I forgot.”</p><p>“It’s alright. Some never do.”</p><p>He gestured to the side. "Glad to see you'll be joining us, Miss Venere. This way, please."</p><p>Sophronia only met agent Coulson a handful of times during her time at SHIELD. Their paths never crossed long enough for them to create a bond like the one she had with Fury. To her, he was just another agent that the director had at hand.</p><p>They stepped into the elevator with no further words. Coulson probably guessed that Nia wasn’t up for small talk, thus the ride to the roof was painfully quiet. The metal door opened and wind brushed Nia’s brunette strands in her face, as if to prevent her gaze from reaching the metal jet sitting atop of the helipad. <em> A Quinjet. </em></p><p>Sophronia’s lungs expanded and collapsed in an annoyed sigh. She was going to have Fury’s neck for this. A prisoner and now tested, too?</p><p>“How long’s the journey?” she asked Coulson, who stopped since she wasn’t following him.</p><p>“About two hours.”</p><p>“Can I call Fury from your phone? I don’t have his number.” </p><p>Agent Coulson chuckled, pulling out SHIELD’s newest satellite phone from his breast pocket. “Sure.”</p><p>She walked a bit to the side, hearing the dial and then Fury’s voice saying, “What is it, Coulson?”</p><p>“This is Nia, you’re a dick.” </p><p>And then she hung up. Handing it back to him, she proceeded to take out a cigarette to curb the sour taste the Jet left on her tongue.</p><p>❈</p><p>Steve Rogers was tired. Despite the serum heightening every one of his senses, it never helped with his inability to overcome a lack of sleep. It wasn’t the exhaustion you feel after a long day at the office, nor the one after an extra-intense workout. His body was as awake and mind as aware as ever, yet the feeling deep inside his bones screamed only one thing and that was to stop. To stop and to forget about it all.</p><p>And he tried to. As he stood in his finest casual clothes, he let his eyes drag over the modern jet in front of him. He blocked out the noise of the street deep below him and focused on the now. The cube, the director and Loki. A mission, nothing else mattered now. A war was on the horizon.</p><p>Just as fast as Coulson left him on that roof with two stranger pilots, he returned with a woman. He recognized her—she was the frowning agent accompanying director Fury yesterday night. She traded her frown for an indiscernible thin line and wore a jacket and jeans, a style he was still not quite used to seeing on women. No SHIELD uniform still, just her plain clothes and a backpack.</p><p>She said something to Coulson and turned her back to him. He looked away as soon as he saw her puff out a cloud of smoke.</p><p>His mother used to have the same habit. Whenever something remotely stressful happened, she always had her Lucky Strikes and matches in hand. The time he caught a flu was when he noticed it for the first time. Everyday for two weeks, she’d disappear for a few minutes, and upon her return that stench of nicotine followed. She made an effort to hide it from Steve, she really did, but—in her own words—he’s always been her bright boy.</p><p>Coulson waved him over. He offered one last glance to the female agent andentered the jet after the agenst.</p><p>They were obviously waiting for the woman outside. She was taking her time as Coulson typed away on the strange console. They sat in silence and Steve had time to observe the small space. He wasn’t too impressed, he’s seen helicopters back in the forties. Nothing as sleek as this, but it wasn’t anything new.</p><p>Steve straightened the nonexistent creases on his shirt as the woman slowly strutted in. Her obscure facade crumbled for a bit as she noticed him sitting there. He wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t following her expression with precise detail—call it a habit.</p><p>“Steve Rogers, ma’am,” he pulled out his hand. She promptly ignored it and sat down.</p><p>“Sophronia Venere,” she mumbled and looked at Coulson, who was already taking in the exchange. He saw the way she cocked his head and he just shrugged.</p><p>“Nice to meet you.” Rogers said, but Sophronia was unresponsive to his lopsided smile as she examined the interior of the jet. He let himself give her a once-over and then looked to Coulson handing him a briefing packet.</p><p>With a nod at Nia's behavior, the Captain powered on the tablet in his hand and wondered if people didn't talk casually anymore like they did  in the 40's.</p><p>"Do get comfortable," Coulson smiled at the two of them from behind the computer. "This might take a while."</p><p>The entrance ramp closed. The jet started to shake beneath their feet. Soon enough, they were gone in the wind, headed straight up.</p><p>❈</p><p>For the first hour and a half of the tedious silence, Sophronia chewed on her inner cheek watching the Captain swipe through the videos and documents of other people who were to be present during <em> the Tesseract Crisis </em>(that's what Sophronia named it in her head). Just as Coulson made a complete and utter fool of himself, Sophronia sighed out loud, unknowingly catching the attention of the two men.</p><p>“You work for SHIELD, ma’am?” Steve asked and sat down opposite of Sophronia.</p><p>“No,” she answered, curtly. “They don’t pay enough, isn’t that right, Coulson? You can’t even afford a good vacation on that payroll.”</p><p>Coulson just shook his head with a mirth.</p><p>“Did SHIELD recruit you?” he pressed some more. Nia knew he was only trying to make conversation but she really didn’t feel like elaborating on the current circumstances. She already did enough explaining to Evalla yesterday.</p><p>“No.” She sighed out loud again.  “I’m visiting, Captain. SHIELD misplaced something, thus creating a problem.”</p><p>“The Tesseract.”</p><p>“You’re familiar.”</p><p>“All too well.” Captain cleared his throat. He searched for something to do with his hands, decided on rubbing them on his thighs. “You’re a scientist, ma’am?”</p><p>She shook her head. “I suck at science.”</p><p>“No, you don’t,” the agent chimed in, drawing Nia’s attention to him with one of her brows cocked up.</p><p>“Computer science is something else, Coulson. I thought you’d know that.”</p><p>“Engineering involves a bit of science.”</p><p>“Thank God it’s not a part of my resume.” Nia cackled humorlessly, turning her attention back to the Captain. She felt more at ease now, conversation kept her from thinking where she was. “How did they break it to you?”</p><p>Rogers gave her a confused face at the seemingly random question. “Pardon?”</p><p>“How did they tell you you’re now in your nineties?”</p><p>Palms on his knees, his eyes lowered to Sophronia’s ridiculing smirk and he understood the question. He offered her a sheepish smile. “I woke up in a hospital room with a radio playing.”</p><p>“Let me guess, they messed up somehow.”</p><p>❈</p><p>When Sophronia was little, she used to love coming to the Helicarrier. Her fascination for machines might have been one of the reasons, but truth be told, she just liked being up in the air. Every year, when asked what she wanted for Christmas, she’d say, “A Helicarrier pass!”</p><p>As much of a serious agency as SHIELD was, it made it easier on Fury to have the ever-joyful Nia around at the end of the day. A spark, he used to call her.</p><p>On her twelfth birthday, she actually got to spend a whole week on the Carrier. She recalled holding her father’s hand and waiting for the door to open. She recalled looking into his green eyes and giggling with anticipation. She recalled stepping onto the runway and the salt air ruffling up her hair.</p><p>She didn’t recall this sour feeling accompanying the landing now. Her stomach was somewhere in her throat when they finally caught a glimpse of the ensemble of aircraft.</p><p>She wasn’t holding in her laugh as she did thirteen years ago, she was simply annoyed and anxious. The ramp opened and the salt air made it a bit hard to breathe for Nia.</p><p>A red-headed agent was marching towards them with a smile.</p><p>A gun in her thigh holster and a swing in her step, Nia recognized her as the infamous <em> Black Widow </em>. The spy was known by everyone in the SHIELD for not only her dark past, but her turn for good, too. Natasha Romanoff was notorious in the world of espionage—a government spy, proficient and undetectable. An ace in SHIELD’s back pocket.</p><p>The men stopped in front of the female spy, but Nia continued on further away from the aircraft, dismissing yet another introduction. The tentative stare from Natasha was enough to tell her she knew who Sophronia was. Instead of acknowledging her, Nia examined the way the crew ran around like clockwork. The nostalgia hit even harder than before.</p><p>A familiar figure caught Sophronia's eyes. His confused person was stumbling around the fighter jets, almost bumping into a few workers here and there, while rubbing his palms together.</p><p>“Dr. Banner, hey!” she yelled out over the ruckus. The man in question, Dr. Bruce Banner, turned with no grace and saw the young woman slowly strolling his way.</p><p>Confused, he asked, “Hi, and you are–?”  </p><p>“Sophronia Venere, nice to meet you.” She shook his hand. Just when she was about to open her mouth again, Steve Rogers stepped to Banner.</p><p>"Word is you can find the cube," Steve asked, animatedly grasping Banner's hand.</p><p>"Is that the only word on me?" Banner muttered and looked to Steve expectantly.</p><p>"Only word I care about." And although his words did nothing to calm Banner's nerves, he appreciated Steve's straightforwardness.</p><p>His slightly hunched over back and awkwardly clenched hands told Nia he was not glad to be here. <em> Someone she can relate to, </em>Nia thought to herself, watching the exchange between the two men.</p><p>"Must be strange for you," Banner told Steve, hands all over the place, "all of this."</p><p>"Well," as Steve looked over the soldiers running laps, he smiled, wistful. "This is actually kind of familiar."</p><p>Natasha stepped between the three, cutting their dialogue short. "You may wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breath."</p><p>Nia couldn't help but let the reminiscent enthusiasm inside her grow. She stifled it enough to keep her face passive. Steve and Banner exchanged confused looks at hearing the groaning of metal and whistling of sirens that told them to move inside.</p><p>"Is this a submarine?" Steve asked, baffled. Banner pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants as a shudder ran down his spine.</p><p>"Really? They want me in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?"</p><p>They all stepped closer to the side to lean over the edge only to see the wild water twisting and running under the newly emerging turbines.</p><p>"No, we're going to fly," Nia gave a sarcastic grin to the two.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The One with the Helicarrier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door that opened before Natasha allowed the trio behind her to see the full glory of what it meant to be in the bridge of the Carrier. </p><p>Agents and soldiers uniformed and equipped with guns ran around, shouting out orders and commands to their co-workers. Agent Maria Hill stood in the front. She watched over the operating room, then turned to the command chair where Fury was stationed. The director was back in his usual long cloak with his hands handling the ship's movement.</p><p>"Let's vanish," he called out and Nia watched the astonished face of the first comer Steve. The clouds rolled over and settled under the Helicarrier. As soon as the reflecting panels were in action, Nia leaned against the railing and relished in the familiarity of it all for at least a few seconds.</p><p>Afterwards, she put her bag on the chair near the table and went over to Fury who was shaking Banner's hand. Noticing Nia, Fury gave her half a smile and welcomed her warmly with his hand on her shoulder. Nia felt like a little kid again, so she just smiled sheepishly and uncomfortably, waiting for the heavy arm of the director to fall off her figure so she could stop fighting off his thoughts. She couldn't deny that it felt oddly comforting, though.</p><p>"So, uh... how long am I staying?" asked Banner and began playing with his hands again. He occasionally glanced at the guards or the men passing them by. He did that a lot, Nia noticed.</p><p>"Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the wind," Fury explained.</p><p>“Where are you with that?”</p><p>“We’re sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cell phones, laptops… If it’s connected to a satellite, it’s eyes and ears for us,” explained Coulson.</p><p>“That’s not gonna find them in time,” Nia butted in.</p><p>“You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?”</p><p>“How many are there?”</p><p>“Call every lab you know,” Banner said, his brows already scrunched up in focus. “Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for Gamma rays. I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm with basic cluster recognition.”</p><p>Catching up with Banner, Nia decided to make herself useful and said to him, “I can help you with the algorithm, doctor.”</p><p>He nodded his head in gratitude. “Good. This way we can rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for us to work?” he asked Fury, who nodded and beckoned Natasha closer to them.</p><p>“Agent Romanoff, could you show doctor Banner to his laboratory, please? I need to have a word with Venere.”</p><p>Fury urged Nia to step to the side and as they neared the command station, Nia asked, “Do you need to confiscate any of my things?”</p><p>He smiled, putting out his hand, palm up. Nia scrunched up her face in bemusement. Going through her pockets, she pulled out a half-done packet and a lighter. Fury lifted his eyebrows and kept his hand stretched out. There was more. With an eye roll, Nia opened her bag and put two more boxes in his hand.</p><p>“I’m not seventeen anymore, I hope you’re aware,” she called out as he went to the nearest garbage can.</p><p>“Sometimes you act like it and then I have to step in.” He tossed the items away. “Thank you for coming voluntarily.”</p><p>“I figured that seeing a woman being dragged off wouldn’t be the craziest thing for a New Yorker to witness at nine in the morning. Go big or go to SHIELD, they say.”</p><p>Fury fought an urge to smirk. “I was told you almost didn’t go.”</p><p>“Seeing the Quinjet certainly helped.” She almost pinched the bridge of her nose and her smile fell away. “Nick, I’m here as a prisoner, not a visitor. I can’t walk out of here if you don’t have the cube—<em> or </em> Loki.”</p><p>Fury sighed and leaned on the railing encasing the upper level of the command room. “About that, Venere, I have a thing for you to consider.”</p><p>She eyed him, suspicious. “What thing?”</p><p>“Remember the serum your father worked on?”</p><p>Sophronia’s whole body tensed up. </p><p>One of her father’s side project was a serum that would stifle any and every ability that wasn’t necessarily human in Nia. She remembered sitting with him in laboratories, looking at the notebook with all of the ingredients and the mixing methods. The day he decided the serum should be ready was the day the building collapsed in on itself and not only took away her father but also her only shot at normalcy. </p><p>“Yes, I remember,” she muttered and watched Fury with a careful eye. He knew what this insinuation meant for her and so did she. </p><p>“There are some people in South Korea that are in my debt. Their team of doctors is very adept,” he said. </p><p>“Don’t waste your favors on me, Nick.”</p><p>“It wouldn’t be wasted if you did me a favor, too.”</p><p>“Don’t you think you ran out of your favors?” she questioned and looked up at the director, suddenly feeling a bit angry. When he stayed quiet, she sighed, realizing her little outburst was uncalled for. “What kind of favor are you talking about?”</p><p>“You come back to–”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” she promptly interrupted him.</p><p>“Reconsider it, Venere.”</p><p>“The answer is no. To this and <em> the Avengers </em>thing.”</p><p>“We believe we could get to two weeks if you cooperate.”</p><p>“It took my dad six years to <em> maybe </em>get it right. And we still didn’t get a chance to test it out. My dad was one of the smartest men there was and I don’t think the doctors in Korea can come even close to him. No one can, Nick.”</p><p>“The team, their technology is far more advanced than all those years ago. We have access to things you wouldn’t have dreamed of back then. It’s possible.”</p><p>“I’m okay, Nick,” she told him. “I like my life the way it is. I don’t need all of this craziness back, especially after everything that’s happened. You should be the one who understands the best. If I wanted to come back, I’d already be here. I know I’m welcomed but—I never wanted to come back. Ever. There’s reasons why I moved to New York and you’re one of them. You and this agency.”</p><p>Nick’s eyes didn’t give any hint to whether he was hurt by this admission, but Sophronia was aware that it must have hit a sore spot for him. He exhaled sharply through his nose, stepping closer. </p><p>“All my life, I’ve been only trying to help you, kid. If there was a way for you to have that serum without any payback, believe me, I would tell you. If I let you have access to the research team, the Council will start to question me. And I can’t have that. Not now. You’ll get life’s worth of your serum for a few years of service. Think about it.”</p><p>“Don’t force this decision on me. It’s already enough that I have to be, when all I see—” Nia didn’t have a chance to finish, because a loud beeping cut her answer short.</p><p>“Sir, we’ve got a hit, a 67%,” called out an agent to their left. Fury stepped to the screen where Loki’s face caught their attention. Dressed in a suit, he was smiling with mischief. “Wait, cross match, 79%.”</p><p>“Location?” Coulson asked.</p><p>“Stuttgart, Germany. 28 Köningstrasse,” the agent responded.</p><p>“He’s not exactly hiding,” Coulson wondered aloud.</p><p>Steve Rogers, who was standing a few feet away from them—and very well in the earshot of their conversation—turned to the director. Fury nodded at him.</p><p>“Captain, you’re up.”</p><p>Nia almost forgot why she was angry as she watched Rogers run out of the bridge. Perhaps her way out was etching closer than she had anticipated. She turned to Fury with a sarcastic smirk. </p><p>“It seems like my time to decide is running out, director.”</p><p>Fury motioned to Nia, “Coulson, take her to the lab.”</p><p>❈</p><p>Nia knew who Bruce Banner was by a happenstance. During her time at the Culver university, she needed extra credit and she figured any subject close to physics would be sufficient enough to not bore her (though she was painstakingly wrong).</p><p>Banner was a world renowned scientist; a part of the honorary professors who did speeches here and there. Her class had the perk of sitting in on one of his lectures for the advanced thermophysics. Nia had no idea what they were talking about. She was lost in the terms and abbreviations, that half way through she zoned out and played around with her computer. She could change her marks if she wanted too badly.</p><p>But after a minute or so, the soft tenor of Bruce Banner made her look up. He talked with a voice that got louder when he thought of something merely interesting, he made pauses to think over his words and the way his hands were flying around in wild gestures, she could tell he was a passionate man. She had respect for him, right from that very moment, knowing she’d never get half as far as he did.</p><p>Her life wasn’t changed by listening to a man with seven PhD’s ramble on for two hours, not at all. Their life went on, without a trace of development. They were but two ships that passed in the night, with a course unknown to neither of them.</p><p>A course that led them both to the Helicarrier and a course that had them now laughing in a lab.</p><p>“I can’t believe you did that in front of the whole board!” she howled, her eyes wide as ever.</p><p>“Oh, the prof never liked me and he made that very apparent. I only gave him what he deserved.”</p><p>Banner just told her about the time he was called in to defend his thesis and how he addressed one of the board members as ‘an ass’. He also made it very clear that it was the only act of rebellion he ever committed during his studies at Culver. She never knew such a thing could come out of the demure doctor.</p><p>“Oh, I bet,” she murmured with a small smile.</p><p>If it wasn’t for the pleasant chatter, she would have set off an alarm in SHIELD’s firewall at least three times just to provoke Fury. Her nerves eased a bit as she settled in the lab. Banner has already been working on the algorithm himself but when he saw the way Nia’s face was tight and stoic, he wasn’t jittery. He fell into conversation with her as if it was a second nature. Seeing each other as equals, despite the age and specialization difference, they easily found topics to talk about while they worked.</p><p>The alien feeling from the conversation with Fury dispersed into a mere memory.</p><p>It was then their work stopped altogether. The click-clack of Nia’s fingers ceased and Banner even took his glasses off. A small army of guards surrounded a man as they passed. If his clothes and the hair weren’t enough of a marker, the grin he sported—as he held Banner’s gaze—gave him away completely.</p><p><em> Loki </em>. They caught Loki.</p><p>From the corner of her eye, she saw Banner rub his hands on his eyes. He was tired and unhappy with the situation, that much was obvious as a tiny flicker made it past his walls to her. She hadn’t had time to dwell on it because questions arose in her. And she needed answers.</p><p>The tang of Loki was still fresh in the hallway. <em> Cunning, mischievous, wicked. </em></p><p>Banner joined her along the way to the operating room, he was quiet as they passed the indiscernible faces of other agents.</p><p>Two hallways connected. Natasha and Steve were slowly strolling their way, low chatter exchanged between them. Seeing the bright blue uniform with stars made Nia do a double take as she recalled Coulson’s words.</p><p><em> People might just need a little old-fashioned. </em> And weren’t he just right.</p><p>She nodded at the pair.</p><p>“No cube in sight,” said Nat, as if <em> she </em>was reading Nia’s thoughts; she didn’t expect any less from the female spy. “But we got his spear, doctor, it will be brought to you after the interrogation.”</p><p>“You’re already interviewing him?” Banner asked, his eyebrows already furrowing at the mention of Loki’s spear. Most likely the one he used to turn SHIELD’s agent on his side.</p><p>Banner joined Natasha’s side as Nia walked beside the Captain. He, too, was in his own head, probably already contemplating what the next step might be. Already anticipating commands and orders. Even his walk insinuated he was a soldier.</p><p>“You’d find that our protocols don’t apply to demigods that steal something <em> that </em>valuable. But no, it’s not a proper interrogation.”</p><p>“You have Loki, you have his spear. He certainly can’t operate from  within a cell.”</p><p>“He isn’t working alone, that we know for sure,” Steve peeped up at Banner. Natasha’s body tensed the tiniest bit, a muted pulse made its way to Nia. So subtle and so inconspicuous, but she noticed.</p><p>A big, bulky man was standing in the bridge. Sleeveless armor, as much as it looked enticing to anyone, seemed counterproductive for Nia. But then again, if Thor, the god of thunder and brother of Loki, could think to be hurt by ordinary humans, he’d probably not be in such a conversation with the deadly Maria Hill. As they entered, Hill beckoned Nia to join her, dismissing Thor.</p><p>All she did was hand her an earpiece. “Fury sends you this.”</p><p>The small device burned a hole in her hand and she didn’t dare to put it in her ear. If she did, it would mean she was no longer here as a prisoner, it would mean she belonged here, she was one of them. The situation became much too real for her liking. For now, she was going to ignore the gnawing feeling of unfairness scratching at her hands.</p><p>Hill nodded and turned to the screen near the commanding post. It was already dark out as Nia tried not to pay attention to anything unfolding on the screen.</p><p>She hadn’t had time to realize the full weight of her whereabouts. She was back here, but not on her own accords. Not because she wanted to see Helicarrier again and feel the salty air around her, but because she was forced to. The authoritative voice of Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD, was a reminder that it was him who brought her here. It was him that mentioned her name in front of the Council. It was him who made the order and it was him who got her into this mess in the first place. He was the culprit for her problems and her mind was now set on being as much of a pain in the ass as possible.</p><p>She squeezed the earpiece in her hand.</p><p>It was a short while after Nick Fury muttered his last words to Loki when <em> the Avengers </em>—unbeknownst to them, that’s how Nia referred to the group in her head—began plotting again. They were almost complete, just two people missing. What a sight that was going to be. It was obvious to Nia she could never fit in the image, they were far too great.  </p><p>“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Banner said, referring to the greasy-haired alien in the glass cell. His interrogation was full of remarks aimed at Banner, it was no wonder uneasiness flooded the room.</p><p>“Loki’s gonna drag this out. So, Thor,” called Rogers from where he was seated at the table, “what’s his play?”</p><p>“He has an army called <em> the Chitauri. </em> They're not of <em> Asgard </em>or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”</p><p>“An army? From outer space?” asked Steve, a bit baffled.</p><p>“So he's building another portal,” Banner quipped, his hands on his chin. “That's what he needs Erik Selvig for.”</p><p>“Selvig?” Thor questioned and deep-set shadows appeared on his face. He was gone somewhere else completely. Even though his facade showed his worry, there was no pulse, no wave for Nia to catch. His walls built high and strong, she noted.</p><p>“He’s an astrophysicist.”</p><p>“He’s a friend.”</p><p>“And he’s under Loki’s spell. He’s got more than just him, though,” Nia said and leaned against the railing. The only contribution she could make in this situation.</p><p>“I want to know why he let us take him. We know he’s not leading the army from here,” Steve said, trying to engage more brains to solve the problem. A smart man.</p><p>“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki,” Banner retorted. “That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him.”</p><p>“Have care how you speak! Loki is beyond reason, but he is of <em> Asgard </em>, and he's my brother.”</p><p>“He killed eighty people in two days,” commented Natasha from the table and Nia just sighed. Hill spared her a look.</p><p>“He’s adopted.”</p><p>“I think,” Banner mused, “it's about the mechanics. Iridium, what do they need the iridium for?”</p><p>There were steps and before Nia saw him, she felt the confidence oozing from the man as he swaggered next to Coulson. His movements were graceful and controlled. And who was making his way to them in all his preposterous glory? Tony Stark.</p><p>“It's a stabilizing agent,” he called out to Banner. “Means the portal won't collapse on itself, like it did at SHIELD.”</p><p>For a moment, Nia drew in a breath as he walked past her to Thor and tapped him on the shoulder. She almost got worried he’d recognize her or remember her from the interview she did five years ago. But the chance was slim, she reminded herself, all he did at her interview was stare at the wall behind her head.</p><p>She watched him, though, watched the smoothness of his gestures, the way he held himself. The way he talked to the rest of the Avengers and she wondered how much he knew about the Initiative. Did he know she was supposed to be in it, too? Or was he kept in the dark as the rest of them?</p><p>By the time he managed to make a fool out of one agent and poke fun at Fury’s disability, he pulled his hands in and out of the pockets of his suit pants, the action suave and so like him.</p><p>Then she saw it.</p><p>It barely caught the blue light of the overhead lights. But when he talked, he stumbled on his words a bit, focusing on the small metal in his hand. She felt a small wave of smugness reach her ears. Barely distinct in all the ruckus from the room, yet still there. Touching the screen, she followed the thing; button-sized and smooth, it was suddenly gone from his hand.</p><p>He was still talking, still distracting them with witty remarks and playful banter. She looked at the table and at Hill. Surveyed each face and each tug of a muscle. No one spotted it. No one knew.</p><p> They were so engaged in their conversation about some <em> Coulomb barrier </em> (a topic she did not understand neither really cared to), they didn’t even pay her a piece of mind as she moved from Hill’s side and deeper into the operating room. Stark and Banner were exchanging theorems when she surveyed the frame of each computer.</p><p>Beneath their eye level, a tiny ridge was out of place. Someone could have misplaced it for a screw casing if they weren’t looking for it. And Nia was looking for it.</p><p>The recognition was instant. She had used a similar technology herself once, it was nothing that wasn’t already on the black market but she figured that Stark must have made it himself. It was smaller and more obscure than the ones she owned. Being a genius and all, it had its own perks.</p><p>An electromagnetic implant. So shrewd, so Stark-like.</p><p>Hill’s face twisted at her and Nia only shook her head. <em> Nothing </em>, she tried to communicate.</p><p>But it wasn’t nothing and Nia knew. Because right now, she wasn’t the only one trying to poke around the SHIELD database. She’s gained a roommate and how unfortunate it was that she was so territorial.</p><p>❈</p><p>She passed Fury on her way to the lab. He did pick up his hand – to stop her, probably – but she skidded away from his grip without even addressing him. For a moment, she contemplated telling him about Stark’s attempt at infiltrating the database undetected, but she thought this could function as revenge, however childish and petty it might sound. She had to make sure first. She might notify him later, though.</p><p>It was minutes of peace and quiet she had when men started bringing equipment into the laboratory. Boxes full of God-knew-what sort of high-end technology. One thing Nia knew was that it belonged to Tony Stark. The sharp contrast of the metal and the black logo were indication enough.</p><p>Her computer was open on a log as the lines appeared in sporadic intervals. One eye on the screen and the other at the door, she was awaiting their arrival. She could go into her assigned room with a cot (she didn’t know where it was and she didn’t feel like asking), but she doubted she’d be as close to the source as here. She would have to stay and endure the presence of not one, but two highly intelligent individuals. One of them being her own employer.</p><p>It might have a positive impact on her <em> own </em>intellect, she joked to herself.</p><p>Banner walked in first, engrossed in whatever debate they had going on. At first, neither of them noticed her. Banner had a metal case in his hand, this one with SHIELD logo and Nia took a wild guess it was the Sceptre. Stark truly noticed Sophronia only after Bruce smiled at her.</p><p>“Tony, this is Sophronia, a great, great programmer. Got the algorithm running faster than I ever could.”</p><p>Nia almost—almost—blushed at the unannounced compliment but the gaze of Stark silenced any reaction she had in store.</p><p>“Tony Stark, but you already knew that,” he introduced himself and went to shake her hand. She mumbled her name in return, quite hesitant but did nonetheless. She ignored his outstretched hand. “You employed?”</p><p>An innocent question, but inquisitive. “Yes. System analyst and assistant developer.”</p><p>She wanted to steer the conversation away from her, but as the computer in front of her spewed more and more lines she hadn’t had time to read through, she got distracted. Stark picked up on the unofficially looking laptop she had in front of her. Bruce opened the case a few inches from her and brought out the Sceptre, ever-glowing and ever-sharp.</p><p>“Where did you go to school?”</p><p>“Uhm, MIT and Culver. I did one half there and the other there.”</p><p>“My alma mater. Yours, too, Bruce, right?” Stark asked him and Banner just nodded, immersing himself in study of Loki’s magical stick. Stark’s attention, on the other hand, was now wholly on Nia’s person. As he sidestepped the table, both of them looked out of the window. At the lit belly of Helicarrier and the darkness behind it.</p><p>“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”</p><p>“Twenty five, Mr. Stark.”</p><p>“That’s young, you’re not bored in your job, yet? Not thinking of retiring?” He smiled at her in the reflection.</p><p>“No, sir, I find my workplace quite interesting, actually.”</p><p>Stark kept his questions at bay for a bit. Instead of focusing on the lines of the ship melting into the night, he zeroed in on the reflection in the window. A crystal-clear view of the screen on Nia’s computer. And of the lines that were being pushed out each second.</p><p>Nia heard the curiosity go pit-a-pat around her. She turned back to the laptop, ignoring the way Stark squeezed past her to unpack whatever equipment he’s brought. She swore he stilled a second when passing a few feet behind her back, though.</p><p>Stark was quiet for the most part, flicking open one case after another and plugging each computer and machine to an outlet. And what a thorough and precise work he’d done.</p><p>“Are you a hacktivist, miss Venere?” he inquired after sifting through some data on the glass plate before him. Even Banner looked up in question.</p><p>“I’m sorry, sir?”</p><p>“A hacktivist. A white hat, gray hat, black hat, whatever category exists. Do you not know the term?”</p><p>“I know the term just fine,” she bit back masking her irritation with politeness. “I don’t see a reason for you asking.”</p><p>“You work for SHIELD, then?”</p><p>“I don’t.”</p><p>Bruce stopped scanning the Scepter for a bit as well, his eyes on Nia, too. This information new to him, he realized. He did assume Nia was employed by Fury with the way he greeted her. A hand on her shoulder, the tight lipped smile.</p><p>“Oh, you see, that’s where it stops making sense.”</p><p>“What does?”</p><p>“Why you’re trying to decrypt SHIELD’s files.”</p><p>Nia stopped typing altogether. As she met Bruce Banner’s eyes, she pressed down on her computer screen. Pressed it down from prying eyes.</p><p>“She’s wh–”</p><p>Bruce was interrupted by Nia before he could follow any further, “I assure you, sir, this is just a countermove to your shenanigans in the operating room.”</p><p>“Tony, what is she–”</p><p>“In what way,” Stark strolled closer, only a table between them, “is it a countermove if you don’t work for SHIELD?”</p><p>“Simple enough, my own curiosity,” Nia answered quite plainly.</p><p>“You don’t trust them?”</p><p>“Is the sky blue?”</p><p>“Then why are you here?”</p><p>For a moment, Nia pondered her wording. It took her a good few seconds before answering, “Safety measures, I’ll be out of here the second the cube is found and returned.”</p><p>Stark only spoke up after a pensive moment, long after staring at her with incredulous expression, “Are you sleeping with Fury?”</p><p>This time, she didn’t find his question as innocent. “What do you have me for, Mr. Stark? An escort?”</p><p>“A valuable escort. I don’t understand why he’s brought you here. Are you his daughter?”</p><p>“If you knew everything, what would be there to look for?”</p><p>He responded to her soft smile with one of his own. </p><p>The distrust was thick and loud in the air as far as Nia could sense. It was a fight between whose ego and whose pride was going to outwit the other. Not a fair fight in this setting, not with so many secrets Nia needed to keep at an arm’s length and away from these intrusive people. If everybody—aside from her and Nick—knew the real reason why she was here, no one would come near her. They’d all scatter in the opposite direction.</p><p>“I’m now going to take a look.”</p><p>Stark must have figured that if Nia didn’t run to Fury in the first moment of realization, it wouldn’t hurt to peek in. Nia gestured to the computer as he grabbed it.</p><p>“It’s a little low on speed, don’t you think?”</p><p>She held his stare, not daring to tell him it was waiting for JARVIS’s footprint and covering her own in the process. Not really wanting him to know what exactly she was doing, she only blinked in response.</p><p>“How long does it usually take?”</p><p>“Days.”</p><p>This dragged out a mirth from Stark.</p><p>“Something funny?” she challenged upon hearing that high-pitched sound. Stark’s eyes were wide with mischief and excitement as he slid the laptop across the table to her.</p><p>“No– Yes!” He chuckled out loud this time, turning to Banner. “Is this the kid you were praising, Banner?”</p><p>Banner was standing at the head of the table, his eyes jumping back and forth between the two. They were exchanging remarks and polite insults like they’ve been life-long enemies. As much as it was fascinating, it didn’t give much space for concentration.</p><p>“This ‘kid’,” Nia interjected Bruce again, “can break through an AES with ease, given the right resources.”</p><p>“Anyone can do it with a key, which you seem to have.” He pointed an electrical prod at her.</p><p>“Correct me if I’m wrong, you’re the one who got into Pentagon on a bet during his college years, sir.” Tony’s eyes twinkled and Nia heard a, what she’d call, ‘awe cocooned in spite’ pulsate. “Has JARVIS broken through, yet?” she tried turning the topic on him.</p><p>“He’s almost there.”</p><p>“Working at the source has its perks, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“It sure does,” he murmured, seeing that Nia was already done with the conversation. The tension, though, was still thick in the air. “What’s your name again?”</p><p>“Sophronia.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Stark grinned. “I won’t tell on you unless you tell on me.”</p><p>“Ni–Fury already knows I poke around,” she admitted, solely for the purpose of making him shut up.</p><p>“He doesn’t need to know about me, though. Deal?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. If he finds out it’s going to be because of your own carelessness, not mine.”</p><p>Banner was impatiently fidgeting with the scanner in his hands as he spoke up, “I hate to interrupt this <em>interesting</em> conversation but, Tony, we should be focusing on this and not interrogating one another.”</p><p>And to Banner’s surprise, Tony Stark listened.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The One where Stark Wants Attention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick note, I apologize for the length of this! It's shorter than what I'm used to posting but I felt like the pacing of the chapters was getting weird with how the scenes were divided up between them. Hopefully, this fixes it. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Nia settled in New York City, she realized how bored she was.</p><p>During her time at SHIELD she always had something to do, somewhere to be or someone to talk to. For the first time in years she was truly, but truly alone. </p><p>Her job with Chester Yates—no matter how extensive—didn’t take up as much time as she wanted. She couldn’t sleep too long, waking up every hour and failing to fall asleep after yet nightmare chased her into reality. She was slowly descending into a cesspit of boredom and purposelessness.</p><p>Desperate for distraction, she decided to find a nine-to-five job. At first, she was thinking a cashier or waitress would do, but she didn’t like people and there was always a chance she’d touch somebody by mistake. With her degree and the few forged recommendation letters from Fury, she sent out her CV. Just so it would be known, she sent hers to Stark Industries as a joke—a reminder that she’ll never make it as far as that.</p><p>In the few routine weeks of doing interviews at every possible IT post in Manhattan, she found a new notification in her mailbox. She had heard from everyone she expected to, yet that red dot mocked her.</p><p>The surprise and bewilderment which swerved around her not only completely threw off guard but made her jump from her seat. She spilled hot coffee on her and ruined her blanket. But she didn’t care. An email from Stark Industries was staring her in the eye. A laugh escaped her, one of disbelief. They must have made a mistake.</p><p>She read a line after line. And as they asked her to come to the facility upstate soon she threw a hand in the air. <em> I’ve proven myself wrong, </em> the gesture stated.</p><p>Dressed in her finest blouse and dress pants, she jumped on the train at eight in the morning. They gave her a badge and she walked into a room with a wide table where three people were seated. The HR manager, she recognized. Then a woman with strawberry hair and a tight smile and–</p><p>Tony Stark.</p><p>Although he had his suit and sunglasses on, the word exhaustion could have been written on his forehead with the way he was slumping. Hungover, he was hungover, Nia realized. She shook their hands with gritted teeth. Tony Stark was half-laying on the chair as he watched a spot on the wall behind her head. She was sure that the moment she let go of his hand, he transcended somewhere else.</p><p>Only after leaving had she realized what it was about. Sitting in on interviews was a punishment—the sweet blonde, Virginia Potts, was forcing the CEO of the company to sit in on interviews. The reason she didn’t know, but it was amusing enough. Hilarious, actually. It also hit her that she had just met Tony Stark. The smartest and richest person in the world.</p><p>It was when she signed the two-year contract (after numerous interviews and tests) that Tony Stark disappeared. And upon his return, he was a changed man. As much as Nia didn’t agree with how he presented himself, she almost tipped her proverbial hat at halting the industries’ weapon manufacture.</p><p>But that’s the highest her regard of him had ever gone. She hadn’t seen him in four years and—even despite the Iron Man charade he had going on—his personality was painfully unbearable in the worst sense. His work ethic, though, was a different story. With a pep in his step, he walked from one screen to the other; he talked to Banner like they had been friends for years and even invited him to the Stark Tower (though, he did completely ignore Nia’s presence, only sent her a wary glance here and there).</p><p>And then he prodded Bruce Banner with an electrical current. Nia jumped.</p><p>“Ow!” Banner only winced.  </p><p>She almost felt guilty for flinching, but from where she was sitting, there was no green monster. Only Banner, rubbing a sore spot on his tummy. Tony was staring him in the eyes, as if daring the slumbering beast to come out.</p><p>“Are you nuts?”</p><p>If it wasn’t for the distraction, she would have heard Rogers barging inside. There was no pulse coming from him, she remarked. His face, though, showed exactly what he was feeling.</p><p>Stark ignored the Captain, “You’ve really got a lid on it, haven’t you?”</p><p>He has a death wish, Nia thought to herself.</p><p>“Is everything a joke to you?”</p><p>“Funny things are,” Stark retorted.</p><p>“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny. No offense, doctor.”</p><p>Banner waved him off. “No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t handle pointy things.”</p><p>“You’re tiptoeing, big man,” said Stark. “You need to strut.”</p><p>“And you need to focus on the problem, Stark.”</p><p>Nia furrowed her eyebrows at the authoritative in Steve’s voice; like he thought he was the leader here, the one in command. It irked Tony, too.</p><p>“You think I’m not? Why did Fury call us in and why now? Why not before? What isn’t he telling us?” Turning around, he locked his eyes on Nia, drawing her into this conversation against her will. “I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.”</p><p>Roger scanned Nia’s intertwined hands in front her face. “You both think Fury’s hiding something?”</p><p>How clever he is, picking up on social cues. She cleared her throat. “Captain, if you were expecting transparency and honesty from Fury, that’s never gonna happen. I’m speaking from experience.”</p><p>“He’s a spy, Captain. He’s the spy. His secrets have secrets and it’s not bothering just me.”</p><p>Stark was trying to get Steve on his side, Nia realized. He was reeling in everyone who could add oil to the fire of mistrust in SHIELD. And it was smart of him to turn to Banner—Captain trusted him, call it an instinct on Stark’s part.</p><p>Banner only shook his head, “Uh, I just wanna finish my work here and…”</p><p>Rogers rested his hands on the belt of that ridiculous uniform. “Doctor,” he pressed.</p><p>With one look in Sophronia’s direction and a second of pondering silence, Banner started with a thoughtful tone, “‘A warm light for all mankind’, Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”</p><p>“I heard it,” the Captain nodded.</p><p>“Well, I think it was meant for you.” He pointed at Stark. “Even if Barton didn’t post that all over the news.”</p><p>“The Stark Tower? That big, ugly,” it took one look from Stark to make Steve hesitate, “building in New York?”</p><p>“It’s powered by the Stark Reactor, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for—what?—a year?”</p><p>Tony popped a berry into his mouth, “That’s just a prototype, I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now.”</p><p>“So, why didn’t SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project. I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place.”</p><p>“We can look into that once Stark finishes the decryption,” Nia said, taking pleasure in the way Stark breathed in deep. She took his grand reveal from him.</p><p>“Decryption of what?” Steve turned to Nia.</p><p>“SHIELD’s most secure files.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, did you say–”</p><p>Stark cut Rogers off, “That’s right, Captain. JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours we’ll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide,” he said, leaning the packet he’d been munching on to Sophronia. “Blueberry?” </p><p>She accepted.</p><p>“Yet you’re confused about why they didn’t want you around?”</p><p>Nia exchanged a look with Banner, wondering if they should intervene. Banner shook his head. Steve, from the other side of the lab, caught the small interaction.</p><p>“Intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome,” Tony droned on.</p><p>“I think Loki’s trying to wind us up,” the Captain declared with his straight shoulders. “This is a man who means to start a war and if we don’t stay focused, he’ll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them.”</p><p>At the last sentence, Nia fought the urge to roll her eyes. The image of Steve’s persona suddenly clicked into place.</p><p>More biting remarks were exchanged between the two men—they proceeded to calling each other useless and pompous. And while Banner was silently focusing on the work on his hands, Nia watched Stark and Rogers go toe-to-toe, unyielding. She had to agree with the remark about the ridiculous stripes and stars. </p><p>“And this still doesn’t smell funky to you, Captain? Stark has a point,” she questioned him as his eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t let your allegiance blindside you.”</p><p>Rogers looked to be contemplating her words. Nia’s eyes were slanted as he shook off an imaginary shiver and did as she expected; obeyed. </p><p>“Just find the cube,” he said. </p><p>She struck a chord.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The One with the God of Mischief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sophronia was standing in the white hallway and slowly sipping her coffee, her eyes stirring with iridescent tendrils every now and again. With one fist in front of her, she watched the agents pass her by without even seeing her—an invisibility shield, that was Evalla’s idea to master, was covering up her presence. </p><p>Thoughts of the call she shared with Mr. Kronski almost twenty four hours ago and her very vague explanation that she will not be able to come in for the next week made her cringe. The work assigned by the Lotus even more so.</p><p>Sitting ducks, that’s what staying here was. She tightened her empty fist and gulped. It was boring, too—the Helicarrier was way more boring than she could recall. But then again, she’s no longer an agent with a schedule. </p><p>That’s the main explanation for her mindless wandering about and her absence in the lab. Ever since she finished the algorithm for Banner, she had nothing to do except for spying on JARVIS. Their work of the Scepter wasn’t anything groundbreaking either—with such limited resources, they couldn’t really find much out. Stark’s comments about how doing this in the Stark Tower would cut the time in half made Sophronia leave shortly after Captain America. </p><p>Sophronia scoffed. That man was ridiculous. </p><p>Throwing her empty cup into a bin and startling a stray agent by the action, she passed yet another junction. Was she lost? No—<em> Maybe? </em></p><p>Truth be told, the Carrier she was used to has probably been dismantled into spare parts and she had no idea which way was her assigned cot. She hadn’t slept properly in 24 hours, but asking someone would hurt her pride too much.</p><p>She was seconds away from looking up the blueprint when Natasha Romanoff rounded the corner. </p><p>Her flaming red hair was styled to perfection. She had her usual expression on—chin low, glaring straight on, lips pulled tight. Paired with the strut and the Widow’s bites on her wrists, the sight alone would send lesser men running.</p><p>Maybe it was the lack of sleep or inhibitions that made Sophronia follow the Russian-born spy. Natasha’s emotions were coincidentally on show for Sophronia, her walls not built up high enough. </p><p>They were flowing over with confidence and some sort of deep-set belief that tasted like blood on Sophronia’s tongue. She couldn’t dissect it, yet the resolution of Romanoff fascinated her. Also, wherever Natasha went, she was sure to lead Nia somewhere she would be familiar with. The bridge, or the lab, or even cafetaria. Sophronia no longer wanted to be lost. </p><p>Matching her footsteps with Natasha’s, she led her into a narrow hallway guarded by one soldier with a rifle.</p><p>“Here for the interrogation. Is he brewing?” Natasha asked, her voice void of any emotion and Sophronia froze at the end of the hallway, unsure whether she shouldn’t just turn around. </p><p>“Pacing and enjoying the comfort,” the soldier nodded at Natasha and pressed a button on a console behind him.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Sophronia clenched her left fist tighter, making sure her shield was still intact for whatever trouble she was bound to get herself into with this decision. Trouble or just a whole lot of fun. </p><p>❈</p><p>The god of mischief appeared to be deep in thought. Walking around his cell from one side to another, his head was hung low, yet you still knew he was present, listening and waiting. And when he stopped to look over his shoulder, he realized none of it was wasted.</p><p>“There's not many people that can sneak up on me,” he said. Natasha Romanoff was standing behind the transparent glass cell. Hidden in shadows, she had her hands clasped together with all the patience in the world. </p><p>“But you figured I'd come.”</p><p>“After,” Loki drawled out in his rasp, turning to Natasha. A sick smile stretched his face. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.”</p><p>“I wanna know what you've done to Agent Barton,” she demanded.</p><p>“I'd say I've expanded his mind.”</p><p>Natasha neared the glass cell with noiseless steps, rounding a lone chair. “And once you've won, once you're king of the mountain—what happens to his mind?”</p><p>His head tipped to the side. “Is this love, Agent Romanoff?”</p><p>“Love is for children. I owe him a debt.”</p><p>Fascination began to cloud over his eyes, Loki sat down on the single cot on the other side of the cell. He was focused on Natasha now. “Tell me.”</p><p>Natasha followed his suit, maintaining her usual nonchalance. “Before I worked for SHIELD, I made a name for myself. I have a very specific skillset. I didn't care who I used it for—or on. I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me, he made a different call.”</p><p>“And what will you do if I vow to spare him?”</p><p>“Not let you out.” </p><p>He met Natasha’s smirk with a laugh. “Ah, no. But I like this. Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Regimes fall every day. I tend not to weep over that, I'm Russian—or I was.”</p><p>“What is it you want?”</p><p>“It's really not that complicated,” Natasha retorted, standing up. “I've got red in my ledger, I'd like to wipe it out.”</p><p>“Can you?” he called out in disbelief. “Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov’s daughter? São Paulo? The hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” </p><p>With each word, Natasha’s facade quivered, cracks appearing in her mask. In the corner, Sophronia was standing with wide eyes as her phone lit up in her pocket. She only dared to steal one swift peek at the screen, notifying her that Stark burst through the last line of defense in SHIELD’s database, decrypting one file after another. He was busted. Almost like her—though she <em> was </em>having much more fun. </p><p>“Your ledger is dripping, It's gushing red,” Loki stood up and his voice got stronger with each syllable. “And you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer—<em> pathetic! </em>” He slammed his hand on his cell, Natasha flinched. Sophronia began smirking at the emotions radiating from her. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away!</p><p>“I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you—slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And when he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull. This is my bargain, you mewling quim!” he spit out the insult and Natasha turned her back to him. A hand over her mouth, the spy was sobbing with disgust.</p><p>“You're a monster,” she uttered in distress.</p><p>But Loki only cackled. “No, <em> you </em>brought the monster.”</p><p>Natasha straightened right back. Her face was poised as she turned to him, no sign of that <em> mewling quim </em>from seconds ago. She made the god of mischief slip up.</p><p>“So, Banner—” she cocked her brow, “that's your play.”</p><p>Taken aback, he staggered out a breathless “What?”</p><p>Natasha paid him no mind. She moved to the main entrance with intent and spoke into her earpiece, “Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Send Thor as well.” </p><p>Sophronia tried to lightly step after the spy, the bottom of her stomach dropped out at the memory of Stark poking Banner. </p><p>Natasha stopped next to his cell, Loki following each of her movements, as if his mind was still figuring out their conversation. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she said and mockingly bowed her head.</p><p>With clenched teeth, Sophronia watched the god take in the gesture. His eyes were slanted as they studied Natasha’s languid but somehow graceful movements. </p><p>Then his sight snagged on Sophronia. </p><p>Tingles reached the tips of her fingers and froze her in place. </p><p>He was glaring right into her eyes. Right into them. </p><p>She tore away from Loki, not caring if her movements could be heard. The way he sensed her movements, followed them... Natasha was already behind the open doors. </p><p>And the spy offered one last look back, looking straight through Sophronia and at Loki. </p><p>And as she walked away, the door began to close with her departure. </p><p>And Sophronia gasped. She clutched her fist tighter, speeding up her steps. But no avail, the door closed right in front of her nose. She was left to stare at the miniscule gap between the two metal panels that now divided her from the rest of the Helicarrier. </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>That was the only comprehensible thought going through Sophronia’s head as she laid her hand on metal, beckoning it to open. Nothing. Trouble, no fun. Just trouble. </p><p>In that moment, she regretted coming in here—she should have just stayed in that hallway, should’ve looked up the blueprint, shouldn’t have followed Natasha inside. If she listened to that little part of her brain she called reasonable, she wouldn’t have half of her problems. </p><p>“Show yourself,” Loki said from the cell after a few minutes of silence. And he <em> could </em> see her, it wasn’t a fluke.</p><p>“<em> Damn, </em>” she whispered under her breath and unclenched her hand, slight fatigue befalling her. Evalla was right, she should have been training her powers more often. </p><p>Sophronia turned around and met Loki’s stare once again. Any nerves from the conversation with Natasha Romanoff were smothered to small burning embers that begged for oxygen, for entertainment of thought. But Loki Laufeyson stared and stared at Sophronia in bewilderment and—<em> Was it recognition? </em></p><p>Her brows furrowed. “How did you see me?” she asked him, not moving from her spot at the door. </p><p>“You can’t fool the Trickster.”</p><p>“I wasn’t trying to fool you.”</p><p>“Weren’t you now?” Loki looked at the ground, gaze glazing over a bit. And the next second he was smiling up at Nia like he figured out a riddle, like he forgot all about Natasha’s great exit. “And what of your friend? She didn’t know you were following her, did she?”</p><p>“She isn’t a friend,” she dismissed the question and Loki hummed.</p><p>“And who is? The director?” She glared at him. “The Tesseract told me.”</p><p>She would have thought him mad if she hadn’t had the ability to talk to people without opening her mouth and create weapons with nothing but pure energy. He <em> talked </em> to the cube?</p><p>“It talks?”</p><p>“It says many things. You should be wary, mongrel; creatures with your power are hunted down by forces beyond your comprehension.”</p><p>She ignored him—the thought of Evalla being exposed pushed out any other worry. The things people could do if their abilities were in wrong hands— “Who else did it talk about?”</p><p>But Loki didn’t get a chance to answer. </p><p>The ground beneath Sophronia’s feet rumbled and her world tipped to the side. </p><p>❈</p><p>“And so it begins.”</p><p>Loki’s voice was curled with a smile—it startled her. Sophronia was holding onto the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. The over-head lights flickered and she inhaled sharply.</p><p>“What did you do?” she asked him. It only warranted Loki intertwining his hands and widening his grin. A grin that was all pearly and horrifying and alien. </p><p>Sophronia could feel the pull of gravity and knew the feeling of an aircraft—no matter how big—losing altitude. The engines. An engine must have been down. Sophronia and the agents were headed down to their demise, there was no question in her head that this was happening. She did not want anyone to go like this, not again and not if she could help it. </p><p>Cursing, she pushed away from the banister and tried to adapt to the shifted equilibrium. She stumbled to the side a few times, almost falling but once she regained her balance, she strained her ears. Even though all was quiet here (apart from the pipes squealing and an alarm blaring), she knew that behind that metal door she was leaning on a pandemonium must have overtaken the Helicarrier. </p><p>Sophronia banged on the door and wondered what the culprit’s objective was. Even in the midst of the panic burning the insides of her lungs she could come up with a few reasons. Loki was the sole planner of this, she had no doubts. She just wished that whatever (or whoever) they were here for, she wouldn’t have to die. </p><p>She did not have to wait long for her answers.</p><p>The door opened and half a dozen men dressed in SHIELD’s gear stood in front of it. She almost sighed in relief. Almost. Were it not for two young guards lying face down on the ground, she would have believed it. She would have believed they were SHIELD. Her feet brought her back and back, until she almost hit the glass cell from which Loki was grinning.</p><p>The pressure in her fingers was a reflex when the man in the forefront pointed his pistol at her. <em> Merciless, wicked, cunning. </em> There it was again—that smell.</p><p>His eyes were blue in the most unnatural way. The irises seemed to have a stark azure swimming in them, covering the pupil completely.</p><p>The sound of one single bullet escaping the barrel made her flinch. The impact sent her back and Loki cackled. Even though he was getting his rescue just about now, there was still Nia who needed to be taken care of. He was having a blast.</p><p>Nia was breathing hard on the floor, her fist tight and eyes swirling with white. Unharmed, she was unharmed but already on the floor from one bullet. The men took a few steps inside the room, but their expression didn’t hold an ounce of surprise nor bewilderment as she expected. They were emotionless.</p><p>A shield was covering her own body, though she was visible to them—<em> it </em> was visible to them. That solid plate of iridescent glass that caught the light in just the perfect way for it to shimmer. Her power materialized for the world to see. </p><p>She looked over the six men, whose guns were at ready and aimed at her. The shaking in her hand wouldn’t stop as she glared at them through the glittered shield. A roar reverberated through the premise—<em> Hulk </em>.</p><p>Making a quick work of fishing the earpiece out of her pocket, she clumsily put it in. She had no idea how to fight this, she wasn’t skilled enough, she had no strategy, no way to— </p><p>Her voice was shaky against her will when she spoke. “I’m in Loki’s cell. Six hostiles, all dressed in SHIELD’s gear. Send reinforcement.”</p><p>Loki cackled from behind her. “They won’t help. They’re a bit busy.”</p><p>She looked over her shoulder at the alien god and hoped that her glare translated into what she was feeling in that moment. Rage, just pure rage. “You won’t win. This is SHIELD.”</p><p>“Indeed, it is, mongrel.”</p><p>And with a flick of his finger, three of the rifles that were aimed at her fired. </p><p>Sophronia was pushed back and back until her spine pressed against the hard, metal railing. Both her hands were now curled in front of her. Tens of bullets were hitting her shields. Flattened they fell through the perforated metal floor with a cling. Strain took a hold of the muscles in her arms. </p><p>For so long she put off deepening the well of her abilities, thinking she wouldn’t ever need them again, that Evalla was wrong, that her life didn’t depend on them. She cursed her past self.</p><p>Sophronia could only watch as one of the men walked away, to the side and to the panel. She breathed in deep, trying to relieve the blazing in her chest. </p><p>One of her hands disconnected from the glass-like shield. Coils of the same consistency coalesced around her knuckles, connecting and condensing into a thick rope. It dangled in circles around her right hand, emitting the slightest of light. </p><p>She put weight into the swing as the lasso was sent flying across the room. It latched around the man’s neck. At the contact, there was nothing in his consciousness but one person, but one object, but one goal—that one terrifying image. </p><p>She didn’t dwell and used her body as a pulling weight. His back hit the ground. </p><p>“Get rid of her,” Loki commanded.</p><p>The shooting stopped in an instant. When one of them lunged at her, she could only move so much to dodge the incoming blow. Her shield and lasso fell into nothing at the disruption of her space. Sophronia couldn’t even tell how much pain did the elbow hitting her jaw elicit, she could only see the same image from before. </p><p>A dagger with a pink tint appeared in her hand. Her power concentrated enough to emit even more light than the whip. She dug it deep into the man’s temple and in her head, she yelled <em> Sleep! </em>He fell to the ground, unconscious. With the identical weapon in her other hand, she threw them at the heads of the other two, repeating the same order from before. </p><p>One of Loki’s minions she sent to the ground was now on his feet as Sophronia tried to keep the remaining four men away from her by re-summoning her shield. He looked back at Loki who only nodded at him and bent his knees. </p><p>Sophronia’s ears were pounding with rushing blood and she didn’t even notice the hydraulic complex behind her groaning. What she did notice was a body hitting her from the back. Face first, she fell to the ground. </p><p>This time when she looked up she did a better job of taking in her surroundings—the men cleared out and she heard Loki cackle. His knee was holding down her neck, a pressure that was very much real and very much there. She was not getting <em> a second </em>to breathe today. </p><p>“Stay down,” he seethed and looked at the open doorway. Thor appeared in it, Mjolnir at ready as he ran for Loki. </p><p>With his body in the air, Sophronia bent her head down in hopes of not getting hit by a stray foot or a hammer. Gold shimmered on the edges of her vision and her lungs expanded when she no longer felt Loki atop of her. </p><p>It took a glance to the side to realize that the god of mischief was not bested by his brother. Thor was now inside the cell. But Loki, he stood at the elevated platform with a simulated disappointment. </p><p>“Are you ever <em> not </em>going to fall for that?” he asked him.</p><p>Only three of Loki’s guards remained in the room, one of which had his barrel pressed to the nape of Sophronia’s neck. </p><p>Thor swung his hammer at the glass cell—it creaked and the clasps that held it in place almost gave out. <em> You idiot </em>, she wanted to scream at him, but she was petrified with fear. </p><p>Loki looked at the crack in wonder—it was three-inch, thick glass that not even Thor could break. Sophronia’s eyes almost bulged out of its sockets upon glancing at the narrow passageway she came through with Natasha. Her face was one of disapproval.</p><p>“The humans think us immortal,” he said and moved to the panel with caution. “Should we test that?”</p><p>With one hand, he reached for <em> the </em> button, but a thud stopped his fingers from pressing down. Agent Coulson stood there, a strange-looking weapon in his hands and an unconscious man at his feet.</p><p>“Move away, please,” his ever-polite voice with a hint of impatient anger echoed through the holding cell. “You like this?” He took a few steps closer as Loki’s eyes looked between the three of us non-infiltrators, plotting, scheming and assessing. “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don't know what it does. Do you want to find out?”</p><p>Coulson pressed the button. The gun was powering on. A whoosh behind Coulson’s back startled Nia—Loki dissipated into golden light and reappeared, reforming himself with the scepter in hand. His spear in hand, Loki drove it through Coulson’s heart.</p><p>“No!” Thor and Sophronia yelled as Coulson dropped to the ground. Only sounds of wet breathing escaped his mouth. The cold gun pushed Sophronia back down. </p><p>The wicked smile on Loki’s face was a desperate reminder that <em> this </em> is what pleased him, <em> this </em> is what he wanted. Pain, suffering and death. A lot of death. But he didn’t speak. There was no speech, no flaunting at his actions. He walked back to the panel, as if the death of Coulson was a mild interruption in the performance he was holding for the eager audience. </p><p>Air began whooshing around them. The hatch was opened. Without another word, Loki pressed the button, sending his only brother plummeting to a certain death. </p><p>With a flick of Loki’s hand, Nia followed the god’s fate. But there was no cell to ease her fall as she flew through the air.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The One with the Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Never before had Sophronia been as furious as she was now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breathing was haggard as her dim lasso connected her hand to a pipe. Her feet were dangling over the petrifying free fall. The wind trashed around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should be screaming her lungs out, but she couldn’t find it in her to open her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia was petrified of heights the same way her stomach churned at the thought of death. And right now, Thor was sure to face a form of decimation. The cell was slowly disappearing into a dot beneath her, and Coulson—Coulson!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coulson’s wounded! Send medics, now!” she yelled into her earpiece and hoped somebody heard her through the gust of wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hatch groaned and began closing—if she came to her senses a second later, she might have lost her legs to the sharp doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her powers were drained. She couldn’t use her whip to climb up no matter how desperately she wanted to. The well that was always filled to the brim was now echoing with vastness. It would take hours for it to replenish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scrambled to the sets of pipes alongside the pit, desperate to find her way up somehow. She heard murmurs and crackling static in the earpiece, but prayed to God they didn’t send only Coulson to Loki’s holding cell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia called to her earpiece again, asking for reinforcement. The static pointed to the fact that even though the speaker was broken, the microphone must have been intact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud boom reverberated through the whole pit and almost sent Sophronia to her knees. She heard yelling from above and scrambled to a ladder hidden behind the metal contraption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With arms made of lead, she somehow landed back on the platform. But nothing prepared her for the sight of Fury running to his closest friend—his buddy, his Phil Coulson. The desperation in his voice clouded by the commands that told him to stay awake rang around the premise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury removed the heavy gun from Coulson’s lap. It was still slightly smoking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped closer to Coulson and touched his shoulder, an attempt to calm him down that was not needed. He was calm, serene, as if waiting for this moment all of his life. And all of his life was now in the hands of time and Nia knew she couldn’t do much as Fury repeated his command to Coulson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m clocked out here,” Coulson heaved, the blood on his mouth drying and scraping itself off with every exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not an option,” Fury said with that stern edge. He tapped Coulson’s cheek and held his blue eyes. He was here with him, he was his partner in this mess, he was supposed to stay alive, he was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, boss,” Coulson muttered, cradling every breath he had with utmost tenderness. “This was never going to work... if they didn't have something... to—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes unfocused. Chest fell steady. Hands relaxed and began losing its warmth. Fury stared for a few more seconds, like he was waiting for him to smile back, the way he always did. That blind optimism mixed with the perfect ounce of professionalism and cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps of paramedics filled the too-silent room. He hung his head to watch the floor. Sophronia and Fury got to their feet and let the men with gloves take care of Phil Coulson’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury leaned against the railing. He knew he couldn’t hold his own weight when the paramedics opened Phil’s shirt. A stab wound directly through his heart—Loki’s doing. It was a wonder he held on long enough to allow Fury to be there during his last moments. A shadow of desperation crossed his face. An emotion Nia hadn’t seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If one moment could mark the day Fury appeared more human it would be this one. No longer was he invulnerable and untouchable. One of the younger men turned back to the director who was gathering his nerves and postponing a reaction and not accepting the aftermath. He was good at that, swallowing any bile in his throat. The man with blue gloves only shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury sighed and said to his earpiece, “Agent Coulson is down.” A beat of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A medical team is on its way to your location,” rang through Fury’s ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re here,” he said, voice painted with distance. “They called it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>❈</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silence encompassed the Carrier. Even though the agents were still murmuring and collecting themselves enough so they could still work. A silence that was beyond a lack of sound made the air thicker, harder to move through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia was leaning against the railing, lost in a trance, her thoughts drifting back to that one day five years ago. Plummeting down to the ground, uncontrollably spinning and clutching the one hand she never wished to let go of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they threw her over the edge, only one indicator light blared red: survive no matter what. Just like then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knew how many people met their lives’ end during the attack? That sort of survival guilt always hung heavy on the shoulders of those who didn’t follow the suit of their comrades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even the faces of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were shuttered, overcome by something not quite understandable. A sense of distance that came with a shock made everybody want to have their own space, meters apart from one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury, although the one person who was supposed to be incapacitated by grief, stood at the head of the table, shuffling through cards. His back was straight, eye was framed with fatigue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he spoke his voice was steady, unwavering. “These were in Phil Coulson’s jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them.” A pack of cards was sent flying across the table, right in the Captain’s direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve picked up one card. It was stained with the blood, a guilty reminder that the one person who went out of his way to make him feel welcomed hadn’t made it. His caricature stared back at him, upper corners of it seeping with red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We're dead in the air up here,” the director continued. “Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming.” He circled around the table, stopped between the Captain and Stark, leveling them with a stare. “Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There was an idea, Stark knows this, called </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Avengers Initiative</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea—in </span>
  <em>
    <span>heroes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stark stood up to his feet. He left the bridge without paying attention to anything else, anyone else. Too engulfed in his own train of thought. Steve followed soon after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Fury sighed, “it’s an old-fashioned notion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia stared at her guardian, at her so-called father figure. Although he appeared to be calm, she knew that once this fire was extinguished, he would go home (wherever that was) and grief. His eye met hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” she asked once she walked up to him. He led them down the steps to a view that was supposed to be stunning, but appeared dull in the light of past events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This Carrier is on its way to a junkyard and that’s costly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I’m asking,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be,” he responded after a pause. He nodded his head and looked at his friend’s collection cards, shuffling them between his fingers. “Coulson was the one who came up with the idea of you joining the team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a look. “I thought it was you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stopped, glass pane under their feet. “It was us who put it together, but he said it first. Spur-of-the-moment, but he has a habit of blurting out these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia tried not wince at the use of present tense and at the contortion of Fury’s face upon the same realization. There were so many thoughts and emotions coming through her—although Fury’s emotional walls were built high, she could feel the pulsating waves of the other agents. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guilt, grief, stress, nerves, ambition, sense of purpose. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shut them out with the little energy she had left. Getting overwhelmed with the input would not be beneficial for anyone present. A familiar exhaustion tugged on her eyelids—she got no sleep and no nicotine, and it was beginning to show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the Tesseract weapons,” she blurted out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were planning on starting World War 3 or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury scoffed. “More like preparing for it. Look at where we are now. Damn near close to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you decided?” asked Fury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what?” Peering back at him for a second, she noticed he wordlessly stared at her. She forced down a sarcastic grunt. “You know the answer. As much as I would love to lead a normal life without my powers, I don’t think coming back to SHIELD would do me any good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could do other people a whole lotta good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What people?” she inquired and recalled all the years she spent at SHIELD. “Back then I never saved one person. Not one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved a lot of them indirectly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By violating the biggest privacy a guy can have. Yeah, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were criminals, mass murderers. Don’t let your conscience weigh you down,” he argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was still wrong and immoral. I was used as a weapon. I didn’t feel like a person </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> a human. I was never truly a part of this—” she gestured around, “—clockwork, this machine. I was locked in my room if not in a lab. I never got a childhood. Those two years at Culver don’t count, I wasn’t— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you know I never wanted to get a degree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury looked at her. “I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you said to pick a university, I picked the hardest one to get into. I flunked the test, still got accepted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to watch her with tentativeness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t turn in my midterms, the credit still arrived. Didn’t show up to take the finals, still passed.” At last, her eyes met his. “That’s why I told you to let the education go, to let me do it on my own terms, by the way. You said Coulson believed in heroes—I’m not that. Heroes don’t run away from problems. They face them, head-on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could be that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia only shook her head. She turned her body to him, her face scrunched up in thought. “You don’t have the Scepter, you don’t have the Cube. Loki is on the run. Two of your Avengers are MIA, one is still collecting his marbles and the two out of three left can’t stand each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already said that. Your point?” he asked, a bit taken aback at the change of topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is your plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t concern you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it does,” she remarked. “It heavily involves the question of my personal freedom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cards in his hands stacked into one pile as he put them in his pocket. He turned to face Sophronia, too. “The Council has ordered to have you moved to Argentina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear struck Sophronia dumb on the spot. She flexed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Well, I appreciate your honesty. The world’s shit has hit the fan and they’re concerned about one woman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can multitask, Venere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have a choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except I do. Freedom—have you ever heard about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw the plan forming inside her head and pointed a warning finger in her direction. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not American, they can have you deported any moment they like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s keeping them from it? You?” she lifted one brow at him, which warranted Fury rolling his eye. It was obvious to Fury that he got her where he needed her to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back and you have one less problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A gilded cage is still a cage—or however the saying goes,” she sighed and a memory that took place just a few days ago sobered her up from the constant back and forth. “I’ve got things to do at home. You know, just because you deal with these big scale crises doesn’t mean that the little guy’s problems don’t count. I’m the little guy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will never understand you, Venere,” he said, exasperated. He looked over his shoulder and at the agents working in silence around them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The invisibility shield you used in Loki’s cell was smart,” Fury noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not smart enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knowing silence passed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You learned that where?” Fury asked Sophronia, who just shrugged. “And with no physical contact...” he mused, giving her a pointed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I changed a bit since I left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small satellite phone with SHIELD’s logo on the back. He let the small device sit on the palm of his outstretched hand. “The jet leaves in an hour. This is for emergencies, or if you change your mind. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>save lives if you used yours right, Nia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took it from him, clutching it tightly. “Tell that to Coulson. And Eli.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The One with Mind Play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The two pilots were quietly talking between the two of them as they neared the Quinjet in the Carrier’s belly hangar. A young woman with curly hair was slowly following behind them—she was the person they were supposed to transport. </p><p>A portal opened above New York City and the last time they knew, Iron Man and Captain America were headed there.</p><p>The blonde guy focused solely on the hushed explanation of the way Thor picked up his hammer and flew away with it. </p><p>He was cut off mid-sentence when he felt something cold wrap around his wrist. He looked down but nothing was there. The sensation was gone as quickly as it appeared. His co-pilot, a man in his forties with black hair, furrowed his brows at this odd behaviour.</p><p>His back straightened as they walked onto the loading ramp of the jet. The co-pilot said something to the nameless woman behind them. Something about the seat belts—he couldn’t properly hear, the conversation was muffled to him. </p><p>He sat down in his seat and began preparing for take off. </p><p>“This is about to be a flight, Henners,” his buddy whispered to him and his face twisted at the uncomfortable looking seats. “Should have gone for the Navy. To Argentina, my God...”</p><p>When Henners didn’t respond, the co-pilot opted for following his suit in silence. Flicking the buttons and asking short and curt questions about the stats, they buckled themselves in. </p><p>Henners reached for the console and punched in new coordinates. He switched off the mic to the comms as the co-pilot sent him a wary glance. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“Change of plans,” he said. “The director issued new orders. We’re going to New York City.”</p><p>“That’s where the fight is happening. We’re supposed to go away from it.”</p><p>“I don’t make the rules, Rees.” Henners shrugged. </p><p>“There was no time to issue new orders. I’ll talk to central about the details—” Rees reached for the unmute button but the pilot’s hand stopped him. “Henners?”</p><p>“Is there a problem?” a smooth, female voice asked them. Rees turned around to take in the woman who was <em> not </em>buckled in like he told her. Instead she leaned with one hand on the top of the pilot’s cabin. He locked his eyes with her and saw the shimmering in them. He mistook it for a play of light rather than a warning sign.</p><p>“Everything is alright, ma’am,” Henners responded without even turning around. He resumed logging the coordinates of SHIELD’s headquarters in New York City into the console. “Go back to your seat, we’re taking off in a bit. There’s just a minor complication.”</p><p>“A complication?” </p><p>“Just a minor one, ma’am, I assure you,” Rees told her, too. </p><p>“Let me help, then.” </p><p>A cold tendril wrapped around his hand and the young woman watched his face go blank—watched it mirror Henners’s face. </p><p>❈</p><p>Sophronia hated using her powers like this. </p><p>But when her freedom was at stake, she couldn’t afford to hesitate. The day she left D.C. was the day she promised herself she will not go back. Back to the laboratories and experiments, to the interrogation rooms and assignments. As long as she had the second option, she would go running the other way. </p><p>Running—like a coward and not a hero. </p><p>She leaned back against the seat and took in a deep breath. With no one around her to judge how close she was to hyperventilating, she squeezed her fist a bit tighter. The strings that joined her to the two pilots were dull and opaque—she had exceeded her limit and was now running on the last bits of resources. </p><p>Though her mind was guarded in a way that didn’t allow to hear the pilots’ thoughts, it didn’t stop her own mind from conjuring up its own. </p><p>They were mainly about her hypocrisy and the walking paradox she represented. </p><p>But then again, Sophronia told herself time and time again that she’s not doing anything wrong, that she’s not breaking into their mind to take their privacy away, that she’s not looking for that one piece of information that could change the whole game. </p><p>But that guilt and the tax that it garnered in her throat... She took their freedom of choice to make sure she had hers. <em> Hypocrite, what a hypocrite she was.  </em></p><p>She was leading them into the heart of danger, the center of this crisis for what? To prove Nick Fury and the Council wrong? To prove that they couldn’t control her the way they think they can? To prove herself there was a reason she was alone and it was this?</p><p>That all of it was stemming from that one seed of poison inside her? </p><p>Panic seized her. Sophronia abruptly stood up and touched the men’s shoulders. She caught her breath to speak up, her voice quiet, “<em>Drop me off at the closest flat surface.</em>” </p><p>“That will be one of the buildings in Manhattan,” a man she came to know was named Rees said. Looking through the windshield, the island of Manhattan was nearing with each jolt of the Quinjet. She watched the chaos that was pouring into this world through a blue portal above the Stark Tower.</p><p>“34th Street and Lexington Ave. I touch the ground and you fly back to the Helicarrier. You won’t remember any of this and you won’t remember <em> me</em>.”</p><p>And the guilt ate at her as Henners swerved the aircraft to the address she gave. She couldn’t even properly remember where exactly that was. </p><p>Sophronia hadn’t thought this through as one agent came to retrieve her back at the Carrier. She was just in the lab, trying to gather her things from the rumbles when he showed up. She acted on impulse—again. It always got her in trouble. No fun, just trouble. </p><p>Looking through the windshield again, Henners informed her that they were nearing their destination. The jet rumbled even more as the hatch opened. They were hovering above the roof of a building—three, maybe four feet in the air. </p><p>Sophronia snatched her bag from one of the seats and dropped out without a second thought. Her knees almost gave out as she loosened her fist, sending out one last command to the two pilots. <em> Fly away and forget. </em></p><p>She fought against the urge to sit down. Her body could only take so much as she stood on the dusty ground, watching the jet fly away from the danger. </p><p>The screams from the streets, alien roars and gunshots broke through the sound of the jet, capturing Sophronia’s attention. She almost fell flat on her ass again as she watched something fly past her and crawl onto the neighboring building. </p><p>Throwing the strap of her backpack over her shoulder, she headed for the entrance door. If luck should have ever been in her favor, it was now. The entrance to the roof and any other door she encountered on her way down was unlocked. </p><p>Walking through the hallways, children were crouched near the walls and away from the windows.<em> Children</em>, so many children. So very little adults. Sophronia pieced it together fast enough. This school was right in the brunt of the attack. A high pitched warcry sounded from outside and the kids flinched. </p><p>They clasped the hands of each other and shuddered with fear, even as Sophronia passed them. Each level was the same. Some windows were broken in, glass shards on the hall’s floor. She saw bruises and blood—and didn’t even dare to think about the massacre she was about to witness outside. Some women tried to stop her, protect her. She didn’t have time to explain. </p><p>With a push Sophronia stepped into an alley.  The chaos was even greater here. Just as she expected. There was dust floating everywhere, pieces of buildings and furniture out in the street and so out of place.</p><p>Sophronia went to pass a street. But she stopped dead in her tracks as a shadow overcast the ave to her right. </p><p>A giant serpent was headed down the street, right to where she was. It floated through the air as if gravity wasn’t even real. It had scales, its teeth bared for the humans to see and it was the size of— size of nothing Sophronia had ever seen before. </p><p>And it was flailing its metallic fins. Burrowing them into the sides of the building. Sending debris down to the ground. Down on the unsuspecting civilians that tried to move away from it—they sprinted but couldn’t outrun the rubbles of cement and glass. </p><p>Sophronia screamed at people to go inside, the few policemen did the same. And as she passed the street, headed right for Hell’s Kitchen, they screamed at her, too. But she didn’t hear over the cries of the levitating serpent. Even if she did, she wouldn’t listen. There was nothing to do for her—no energy to exert. She was done for and no amount of pushing would get her to summon the simplest of shields. Drained to its dregs. That’s what her powers were. </p><p>She only got so far when she came face to face with one of the alien soldiers. <em> Chitauri</em>, Thor called them. It stood on top of a car, snarling at anything that was moving. It snarled at Sophronia, too. </p><p>It picked up its weapon and pointed. Sophronia could only force her body behind a destroyed, yellow cab as a shot rang out. Her face hit the floor and she was sure it tore skin. She watched the roof of the car fly up and behind her. A blue zap went over her head. </p><p>She inched herself to the ground as another thump signaled that the beast had moved. Moved closer to her. Picking her head up, she locked eyes with the animal-like creature and watched as it pointed its gun right at her head. </p><p>She froze up—petrified at the features of the Chitauri. She scrambled at her hands. A pathetic try at forging her own shield. Sophronia’s eyes closed at the press of her fists and the roar from the monster. Waited for the hit to come—</p><p>The creature squeaked. Sophronia opened her eyes fast enough to see the Chitauri fall to the ground lifeless. </p><p>“Venere!” someone shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a bright uniform and the reflecting sun on a tricolored shield. The person rounded the destroyed cab. His worried faced inched around the car and he quickly offered a hand. She ignored it. </p><p>Sophronia scrambled to her feet, her knees already torn and a bit bloodied. Dust covered each particle of clothing it could. Picking up her gaze, she couldn’t help but notice Steve Rogers assessing her. Perhaps her face got so mauled in the fall he got worried. She could see it in his face. The worry. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” he asked.</p><p>“Going home, Captain,” she said, breathlessly.</p><p>His brows stitched together and he looked around. “You should stay hidden. The subway, preferably. It’s not safe out here.”</p><p>She nodded, but did not yield to his command. With a salute, she began walking away from him. Her hands were still shaking from the encounter with the monster and she knew the star-spangled man noticed. </p><p>“The subway is the other way,” he called out and followed after her. </p><p>As his hand wrapped around her elbow, it Sophronia right out of her skin. She turned to him, voice deeper than usual. “Captain, you should go back to the fighting.”</p><p>He immediately kept his hands to himself at the look she gave him. Sophronia realized it was the same one from the lab. Sense of distrust and critique. He didn’t like that and he realized the same thing. That was the last time they spoke before all hell broke loose.</p><p>“It’s not safe,” he repeated, voice edged with an unspoken command. It rubbed her the wrong way. She began walking backwards, keeping her dark brown eyes connected to the azure blue of his. Her fist was tight on the strap of her backpack.</p><p>“I will be careful, Captain,” she assured him. “There are damsels that need saving. So go save them.”</p><p>Then she broke into a sprint, leaving the dumbfounded Steve Rogers behind her. She was sure he did as told. Sure of it. The roars from down the street were an indicator enough that he had already a handful of them. </p><p>It took her another hour to get to Hell’s Kitchen. She witnessed more floating serpents. And avoided open streets per Rogers’s commands. But even when she got further from the Stark Tower—above which was the godforsaken portal that led the Chitauri in—, the suffering didn’t lessen. </p><p>There were people covered by the ruins whom she tried to help, but couldn’t. Women weeping as they stumbled through the bloodshed. So much death and it has only been an hour for her. God knew what Rogers and the other Avengers beheld in the hours they spent in direct contact with the battle.</p><p>During the trudging, she tried to make sense of things. The panic from the Quinjet and the overcoming guilt were still scratching at her throat, but she tried to push them down. Push the horrors in Manhattan down and away. She’ll face that beast once all of this has calmed down.</p><p>If Loki wasn’t stopped, she was sure Fury would come for her. He must have known where she was dropped off. The director wasn’t stupid enough not to put a tracker in that phone. God knew the things he was dealing with were much more demanding than one woman on the run. The Council be damned. </p><p>Still, she added to that load. </p><p>Standing inside a coffee shop, she scouted the street ahead. She was a few blocks from her apartment, but the Chitauri were here, too. There were breaking window panes and smashing every flat, untouched surface, shooting their strange-looking guns at anything that made a sound. From the safety of a marble counter, Sophronia could finally observe their appearance. </p><p>Pale skin was covered in armor sporadically, only protecting their chests and lower torsos. Their faces had jutted out chins and sharp teeth. They reminded Sophronia of dogs. A bland golden crown banded each of their foreheads and as they moved with strategy, you would think that they shared one mind. </p><p>She inhaled sharply as one of them strided for her hiding place. The others followed and Sophronia was preparing to run to the back door (if there was one). They were headed her way one second and dropping to the floor like puppets the other. As if somebody just turned them off. Sophronia balked. </p><p>“Oh, what now?” she whispered to herself and waited a few more minutes. On one hand she expected them to get up and on the other, it appeared as if the invasion stopped all of sudden. The groaning from the serpent's ceased and she saw the way some people entered the streets and looked up to the sky. Then they pointed and smiled. Laughed and cried. </p><p>She frowned and followed their suit. Backing herself up, she kept her eyes on the sky, looking for that blue portal that connected this world to the other. But she couldn’t find it. </p><p>With no idea how to react, she just looked at the small group of people that had tears rolling down their faces. Every single one of them. They looked alike and Sophronia guessed that they were a family. An older woman dropped to her knees and began praying, maybe thanking the Lord above for the rescue of humankind. </p><p>The cynic in her wanted to say that if there was a God, he wouldn’t have let this happen to them. To anyone. He wouldn’t create something like that. Be it a failure or not, he wouldn’t let something like that live. Something like her.  </p><p>Sophronia dismissed the family and ignored the blood rushing into her ears and the shaking of her hands. She needed to contact Evalla—make sure she left the state like she promised. Then, only then would she let the events of the day settle in her head. </p><p>Her apartment was close enough that the trek was only minutes long. With her boots stained by blood and dust, Sophronia fished out the keys to her apartment. Fumbling, she left her footwear in front of her door. The kitchen was still spotless from the way Evalla scrubbed it down. </p><p>Sophronia dropped the bag on that clean counter. Its depthless thud resounded through the small room as she sighed. She pulled out her favorite blend and turned. </p><p>The empty cup shattered on the floor. Her breath stolen from her lungs. She couldn’t do anything. Do anything but stare at the scene before her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The One with a Letter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter involves a vague description of a corpse, throwing up and blood. If you're uncomfortable with these topics, skip the first scene and start reading after the first divider.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Red. All Sophronia saw was red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stained her carpet, her bed and the wall behind it. The poster of Freddy Mercury was on the floor, bathed in crimson, too. In its former place was a sight that caused a bile to rise from Sophronia’s belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization set in quickly as she rushed to her bathroom. She almost emptied her stomach onto the ground. She heaved once, then a second time and again until all that was coming out was acid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It burned her throat. Tears from the strain burned her eyes, too. Her weakened hands lifted her from the toilet bowl. But it took one glance over her shoulder to have her bent over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, behind her back and through the doorway of her bathroom, was a scene out of a crime movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wall, smeared with blood, had pictures plastered all over it. Big, blown-out details of a body cut in different places. A severed hand. Guts falling out of a petite stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blonde hair so soaked in cardinal blood it looked brown</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And above it—a black and white lotus card. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia wanted to scrub her eyes clean. No—that wasn’t quite right. She wanted to scrub the past week from existence. The past five years. Maybe even the all of the other years she spent on this Earth, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the back of her hand Sophronia wiped her mouth and closed her eyes. She felt her way around the apartment on her wobbly knees. Once she was sure her back was facing her bed, she opened them again. Reaching for her door, she locked it. Hell, turned the knobs on the bolts at the top and bottom, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never before has she not felt safe in her apartment. Never before has she felt the need to use those heavy duty latches. Evalla has warned her that this might happen. That they could get in, wreak havoc and send a message. All of that to put Sophronia back in her place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a fool she was, trying to bargain with him. How she waltzed into his study, lit a cigarette and talked to him as if he was a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was broken with the old Nokia vibrating on her desk. Sophronia stiffened at the sound but couldn’t get her body to move. She took a few breaths and let her eyes shutter close. If she saw it again, she didn’t think her stomach could take any more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her thigh bumped the desk, she snatched the phone and answered the call immediately. Only one person had the number for this phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nia! Oh, my God!” Evalla’s voice was a few pitches higher than normally. Sophronia rubbed at her lids and sat down at the untouched desk, looking down at her feet. Evalla must have attempted to call her before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me,” Sophronia started in a rasp, “you’re at least halfway across the country right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in Washington. Where are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” her friends asked, incredulous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m home. In New York.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuts</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might as well be,” Sophronia admitted and lifted her gaze. Perched against her monitor was a white envelope. She took in a shaky breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Evalla chimed in. “Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia tried to swallow but her throat was dry. She needed some water— “I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t sound good, Nia. Should I come up there? The whole world is freaking out, there’s fucking aliens in New York!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia forgot about the events of the day the moment she noticed the pictures. The still-fresh memory had her stomach churning. Her voice sounded flat to her ears. “Not anymore. They dropped dead out of nowhere. Don’t come up here, Eva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were home during that?” She could hear Evalla huff and shuffle around. Wherever in Washington she was, Sophronia hoped she wasn’t making plans on turning up out of the blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I was at SHIELD the whole time. Don’t come to New York.” Sophronia’s eyes were still locked onto that white envelope. It couldn’t be real. “I have to go,” she interrupted Evalla’s murmuring and hung up without another word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>❈</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia tried to sleep in her bathtub that night. Emphasis on ‘tried’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>New York City was still counting its survivors deep into the night—who knew how long it would take to shake the events of today, let alone move on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swiftly, she realized her apartment hasn’t been struck by the flying pieces of buildings or the wall-crawling Chitauri. There were sirens in the distance or occasional honking. Sophronia could hear the conversations of her neighbors and the incessant buzzing of the Nokia on her desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat in that bathtub and imagined that the room behind the bathroom door didn’t exist. That her bed was dry, that her carpet had no blood on it. That the Freddy Mercury poster was hung where the pictures of a dismembered body were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bottle of rum on the sink called to her and she obeyed. Took three big, fat gulps and leaned back. Her empty stomach was upset from the lack of sleep and food, and the alcohol only served as an irritant. No more was it a safety blanket. Sophronia sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed it away from her and curled into her herself. A backpack served as a pillow under her head while she fought to find a comfortable position. She let her lids droop lower and lower until she was knocked out. Until she was asleep and away from the horrors of reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>❈</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Your debt has quadrupled. You go to the government again or we find out you said anything, you follow Julie. This was a warning.’<br/></span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The One with Changes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When a great change comes, it takes time for it to become your <em> new normal</em>. While you’re adjusting, you still find yourself going back to those same old habits from before. Then you slap your palm on your forehead and remember. </p><p>Right. That has changed. </p><p>It’s like moving into a new home. There are opened boxes laying around weeks after you’ve set them there. You search for an item, but it’s almost impossible to find it among the other displaced things. You open a cupboard just to find that the mugs are somewhere else altogether. You look out of the window, but the view is different. It’s foreign. </p><p>The view of New York City—and even the whole world, you could say—has faced perhaps the greatest change in its lifetime. People walked the streets cluttered with scraps. Looked for people who were no longer there. Went to places that they couldn’t reach anymore. The scenery that was once familiar became a painful reminder that life and its meaning have been flipped on their proverbial head. </p><p>Sophronia hated change. Hated it with passion. And it was ironic that the past few weeks have been overflowing with it. She could name a few guilty parties for this, but she kept these thoughts to herself. </p><p>Well, she had no one to share them with anyway. </p><p>Getting the apartment cleaned without vomiting has proven to be quite the feat. The panic she felt when her landlady knocked on her door and asked to evaluate the damages done was the one thing that got Sophronia out of her stupor. She didn’t even remember what she told the woman. A memory of her walking away was foggy. </p><p>There have been so many things she had to deal with. A simple thought of it made her head spin each day she spent scrubbing the floor and repainting the walls. Her savings thinned with each item that needed replacing. She had no idea how to get rid of the stained furniture either. </p><p>Sophronia wrapped all of it with a tarp, left it in a corner of her apartment and hoped that the blood belonged to an animal. No, she didn’t hope. She convinced herself that it was animal blood. What she would do if the opposite turned out to be true was beyond her. </p><p>Burning the pictures was the hardest part and she did it last. But she was drunk off her rocker, so at least that part has been wiped clean from her brain.</p><p>When she slept (still in the bathtub) long enough to venture outside, she headed for the Lotus. She didn’t even know why it came as a surprise when the code to the front gate was changed. When her master key no longer worked. A guard she knew walked out of the house and without a greeting handed her a flash drive.</p><p>Five days. She was gone five days and somehow she has been already replaced, made insignificant. </p><p>In the eyes of Chester Yates, Sophronia had become a secondary character. She was just another person that labored off her debt—Julie’s debt. She cursed at the six-digit number when she opened the flash drive. Her mind couldn’t even grasp how Yates found out she went to SHIELD. And how he came to the conclusion that she was snitching. </p><p>Evalla was right. She should have left when things were easier. When she wasn’t in need of money as she was now. She couldn’t even talk to her friend about it. Refused to do so. </p><p>With each five calls she missed, Sophronia forced herself to make one back and reassure Evalla that she was alive and well. The woman has never been this worried for her—Sophronia wasn’t known for disappearing for days. That was Evalla’s gimmick. </p><p>When Sophronia wasn’t talking to Evalla, she was either finishing tasks from Yates or checking her inbox for an email from her <em> real </em>job. </p><p>The Stark Industries told her to stay at home while they revived the old facility upstate. Turns out that the Tower has taken some serious damage from the Chitauri attack and needed some TLC. Sophronia almost moaned in glee when the email mentioned that the time off will be paid for. One less thing to worry about.</p><p>She worked from home for two weeks before she was called back in. Sophronia couldn’t help but sigh at the realization that at least that hadn’t changed. She’d be again in her old office at Stark Industries. A mere reminder that her life hadn’t been absolutely lost since she stepped through SHIELD’s front door. </p><p>She passed the front desk, showed her badge and the routine fell into place. Muscle memory brought her through the intricate maze of hallways and elevators to her floor.</p><p>She passed Mr. Kronski. He almost hugged Sophronia when she entered his line of vision. Talking about the attack in murky details, she could see that her superior had been struck with tragedy. She didn’t ask him about it. His walls were built so low that any change in his demeanor was felt on a different scale. Mr. Kronski was, simply put, an intense man. </p><p>“Settle in, Nia,” he told her, his voice tainted with melancholy. “There’s little to do right now, but hopefully, I’ll have something for you soon.”</p><p>Sophronia only nodded. </p><p>Her old office was equipped with the basics only. A desk, a chair and a computer. She looked out of the window and at the trees behind the fence. Their color was supposed to be vibrant green of late May, but their hue has dulled. The entire world has dulled. </p><p>With a long exhale, Nia turned on her computer. </p><p>❈</p><p>“Nia?” Mr. Kronski called out after he opened the door to Sophronia’s office. She was so immersed in writing a code that she almost hadn’t noticed him. </p><p>Pulling out her earphones, she said, “Yes?”</p><p>“You’re called upstairs to the CIO’s office. I was just sent the memo to pass it to you.”</p><p>Sophronia furrowed her eyebrows. Couldn’t have they sent it to her directly? “Do you think I’m in trouble?”</p><p>“I doubt it.” Mr. Kronski smiled at her. “You’re a stellar employee. But still act nice to her, you never know what she might want.”</p><p>Once her manager was away, she stretched her arms out and looked around the bland office. It was past noon and she accidentally missed lunch. With a shrug, she walked out on her stiff legs. </p><p>No ideas were coming to her as to why her presence was demanded by the woman. Perhaps a random check-up on how she was progressing. </p><p>Sophronia recounted all the things she would have to do once she was home to fend off the nerves that was building up in her chest. <em> Pick up a new mattress. Call Evalla. Finish the almost-impossible chore for Yates so she doesn’t end up </em> dead. <em> Take shower. Sleep for at least five hours.  </em></p><p>After a particularly dreadful elevator ride with a few people, she stepped into the hallway. This whole floor was dedicated for the CIO and the people in her command. They always had the worst tasks for Sophronia to take over. </p><p>She noticed a dark haired woman leaning against a glass counter and quietly talking to a secretary. The CIO looked over her shoulder and smiled at Sophronia. </p><p>She decided to step closer. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Sophronia Venere, did you ask for me?”</p><p>She greeted her with a simple nod. “Head to my office, will you?” the CIO said with a honeyed voice and the wrinkles around her mouth deepened. Her finger pointed right where Sophronia expected it to. “It’s the last door down that hall.” </p><p>With a dip of her chin, Sophronia made her way to the opaque glass door. </p><p>She had her sight focused on the ground when she pushed the door open with her shoulder. She couldn’t have noticed it. Already in her own head, Sophronia jumped at the voice that addressed her.</p><p>“Close the door, please.”</p><p>❈</p><p>The office had giant, floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall, similar to the ones Mr. Kronski had. It was styled in a very minimalistic way—whites and silvers everywhere. They matched with the whole aesthetic of Stark Industries. Cold and professional.</p><p>The person that sat behind the polished desk stood out like a sore thumb. With his dark suit and tinted glasses, he appeared as a mirage in the serenity of the room. With the waves of irritation reaching Sophronia, she was aware that the CIO wasn’t the person who called her up. </p><p>She kept her mouth shut. Her back was pressed against the cold glass and gaze locked on Tony Stark.</p><p>He was languidly sitting in the grey, ergonomic chair. His feet were perched on the table and crossed. The muscles in his face were unmoving, lips schooled into a tight line and eyes assessing her person with precision. One of his hands was placed on the computer mouse while the other mindlessly scratched at his goatee.</p><p>“Take a seat, Miss Venere,” he said and gestured to the white armchairs in front of him. </p><p>Sophronia took a seat on the one closest to her. Stark spent some time clicking at the computer, and she wondered if the reason for this meeting was what she thought it to be. She hid the never-ending shaking in her hands by playing with the hem of her shirt while her eyes were trained on Stark. </p><p>“I considered giving you a job after our meeting at SHIELD,” he said, his voice carrying that usual melody and a bit of edge. At her obvious lack of reaction he shrugged. “I always try to give young people a chance at proving themselves. Make them break some eggs. Maybe let them be the next big thing under my wing. You can imagine my surprise when I found out you’re already employed. By <em> me </em>.”</p><p>Sophronia watched as he gracefully set his feet down on the floor.</p><p>“At first I was like, oh, I can understand why she wouldn’t say so. I wondered what she was doing at SHIELD and why she was allowed to just mess with their database without any repercussions. Maybe she lied about not working for SHIELD. It wouldn’t be the first time Fury tried to spy on me through someone else. </p><p>“So I checked. But your name didn’t show up anywhere in their files.”</p><p>He moved his arms around, pulled his eyebrows up and down while telling the story. Then locked eyes with Sophronia. </p><p>“There’s layers to this, of course.” He tapped the desk twice. “Hear this about the high school you <em> supposedly </em> went to. Your face doesn’t show up in any of the pictures. On paper you graduated, but there is no real evidence that you went there.”</p><p>Sophronia’s back straightened at the insinuation. She was <em> so </em> thrown off balance by his quick sentences. “I was sick a lot as a kid.” </p><p>It wasn’t a lie. Most days, she had to be home-schooled. The input from other children and their hectic emotions overtook her own perception of reality. When things meshed together like that, it was easy to get lost. </p><p>Stark smirked and pointed a finger at her. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. Let’s check your medical record.” He started typing something on the computer, but abruptly stopped. Stark chuckled. “Oh, silly me. There isn’t one. What about your papers? Can we find you in the state’s database?”</p><p>Sophronia could only watch him with a passive face. </p><p>“The only time your name shows up is in 1996, when you entered the United States of America on March 19th. You took a flight from Nice, France with Joshua Venere. I’m guessing that’s your father. And since then, you don’t show up anywhere until late 2007, when you rented an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen and applied for jobs here and there. You have moved twice since that.”</p><p>“Why?” she opened her mouth for the second time since she entered. “Why go all this way?”</p><p>“Why? This is <em> my </em>company we’re talking about here.”</p><p>She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Stark only lifted his hand and began typing again. When he finally found what he was looking for, he turned the monitor to face her. Sophronia’s face tightened at the sight. </p><p>It was a video pulled from a CCTV near the Hudson River. It dated to two years ago and Sophronia could see herself on the screen, clear as day. She was walking to an apartment building and wearing the exact same shirt as today. Her hair was a bit longer, though. But the resemblance was uncanny. She stopped in front of a door, pressed something and waited. A guard dressed in casual clothing came out and she handed him something. The video cut to a tighter frame. It was a flash drive. </p><p>Another image appeared. This one was from a few months ago. It showed her in a different location doing the same thing, but in her hands was a manila folder. Then a next one—from yesterday. </p><p>Sophronia felt the flush at the back of her neck. Stark was watching her while her eyes took in the broadcast. When he felt like her reaction was satisfactory enough, he turned the monitor back to him. </p><p>With his hands intertwined in front of his mouth, the wicked victory from a few minutes ago has vanished from his expression. </p><p>“What guarantee,” he began, “do I have that that’s not something concerning Stark Industries, huh? That band of criminals is known for trading sensitive information with anyone who’s willing to partner up and I am coming up short on why my employee is headed to their lair, handing over hardware.”</p><p>“It’s not what it looks like,” Sophronia could only say. She was aware of the cliche in her words. </p><p>“I repeat, what guarantee do I have apart from your word? On paper, you don’t exist. The French have no citizens under the name of Sophronia Venere in their records. Your father, yes, he lived, but you… Do you even have a birth certificate or was the one you showed us fake?”</p><p>“Why not just take this to the police or the government? Why patronize me with this?” she questioned him. </p><p>“If I wasn’t so hellbent on keeping them off of <em> my </em> back, I would. I’d rather this be dealt with under the wraps. You lied, Miss Venere, and you look guilty. Don’t pretend you’ve never affiliated yourself with the Lotus or any other <em> illegal </em> company.” </p><p>Sophronia knew that this was a fight lost. A new, bigger and heavier realization dawned over her shoulder. The three lives she’s been leading for the past four years have merged into one. And it was a mess. She tried delaying a reaction by rolling her neck. </p><p>“I will pack up my things and leave today.” </p><p>Stark’s mouth shaped into a small smile as he passed a few papers kept together by a paperclip her way. “I’m glad we came to a mutual understanding. I don’t doubt your connection with… other people pays you well enough to keep you afloat, but take this as a token of good will. We’re offering you a safety net worth three months of your current salary. That should support you until you find another job.”</p><p>She looked over the document. An acknowledgement that her contract with Stark Industries has been terminated. </p><p>Stark moved a pen her way. Before reaching for it, she flexed her hand to keep the tremor at bay. It could only do so much as the cold sweat dripped over her body the moment she signed her name on the dotted line. </p><p>It was official, printed in black and white under her palm. Her whole life has crumbled into pieces. And she couldn’t pick the pieces up.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The One with a Promise of Vengeance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evalla was sick with worry. </p><p>Walking through the eerie, lamp-lit streets of Hell’s Kitchen, she tried to dial Sophronia’s number again. And for the umpteenth time, the call went to voicemail. </p><p>“Nia?” Evalla said into the phone’s microphone. “I’m in New York, please, call me back or I’ll bust down your apartment’s door. You know I’m capable of that.”</p><p>It has been a month since she had heard from her friend. A month and a half since she had last seen her. With business keeping her in Washington, Evalla has had no time to make the trip. After the first week of radio silence, she figured that Sophronia needed space for— for whatever it was she was dealing with. </p><p>And Evalla knew there was something eating at her friend. Even though she only saw the events of the Attack through a screen, the videos alone made her skin crawl. God knew the things Sophronia had witnessed while she was here. </p><p>Entering the apartment complex where Sophronia lived, she quickly noted that there was a faint light coming from her window. Evalla jogged up the stairs and headed for the familiar door. There were boots dirty with gore and mud, she barely recognized them as Nia’s. </p><p>She knocked once, but no sound came. Even called her number again, though she heard no ringtone coming from the inside. Banging her fist on the door was fruitless as well. </p><p>Evalla surveyed the lock she had picked at least a dozen times before and summoned her powers into her hands. In no time and with a little force, the door fell open. </p><p>Her eyes grew wide at the scene before her. </p><p>The first thing she saw was the kitchen—the sink was full to its brim with unclean dishes and every possible flat surface of the counter had either empty bottles or take out boxes on it. The trashcan in the corner didn’t look much better. </p><p>The floor of the room was covered with papers and folders that were either stacked into neat piles or randomly thrown around. Empty or half-full crystal glasses sporadically filled the empty spaces where she could see the floor. The bed and the carpet were missing. The walls were even a bright white. And Evalla could swear she remembered them to be creamy and not white. In the corner was a pile of things covered by a black tarp. </p><p>Her friend’s computer desk was the only thing relatively clean. What a surprise <em> that </em>was to Evalla. </p><p>The woman closed the door after herself. Two new bolts on her frame caused creases to form between Evalla’s brows as she moved into the room. The only other door led to her bathroom and that’s where the light was coming from. She couldn’t see much through the small crack, but she figured Sophronia was in there. </p><p>“Nia?” she called out. Just as she expected, a grunt sounded from inside. </p><p>Judging by the stale smell of rum in the air, her friend was drunk. She dismissed the odd state of her apartment and took the last clean cup and filled it with water. It had flowers on it, Evalla hoped that the silly detail would cheer her up. Sophronia had a tendency to be the brooding type when under the influence. </p><p>It took one push on the door to reveal the dozing Sophronia. The bathtub she was laying down in had a blanket and a few pillows in it. Evalla would think her comfortable weren’t it for the way her body was twisted and one of her legs hung over the edge. </p><p>There was a half-full bottle of Captain Morgan on the rim of the tub. </p><p>“When did you even open this?” she whispered, mostly to herself. “Nia?”</p><p>Her friend opened an eye and had the audacity to look surprised. “Eva? Oh, hey, Eva.” </p><p>Before Sophronia could move her elbows and knock down the bottle, Evalla snatched it into her other empty hand. Crouching down, she had her eyes leveled with Sophronia’s. </p><p>“What’s your secret? Ya got no wrinkles,” Sophronia observed and reached out her hand. Evalla dodged out of its way that instant. Sophronia never openly touched her. She never touched anyone. </p><p>With a grunt, Evalla brought the bottle of rum in front Sophronia’s squinting eyes. “How much of this have you drunk, Nia?”</p><p>“He’s a funny man,” she said and pointed her finger at the label. Then she broke into a fit of giggles. </p><p>Evalla sighed and dumped a good amount of water on Sophronia’s head. Sophronia sat up and gasped at the coldness running down her back. </p><p>“How much of this have you had, Nia?” Evalla tried again. </p><p>Something that sounded like “Bought it today” came out of Sophronia. Evalla waited for her to collect herself. Once she had sat up, she handed her the cup. It didn’t have much water left, though. Much to her amazement, Sophronia gulped down the liquid in one go and then stared at the cup for a long moment.</p><p>“I own this?” she snorted. With a light swaying, she outstretched her hand in Evalla’s direction.</p><p>Deciding that Sophronia was in a much better state, she grabbed the cup to refill it. “What the hell happened? Your whole apartment’s a mess,” Evalla called out from the kitchen and began stacking plates. </p><p>“Should’ve seen it before. Blood <em> every-fucking-where</em>.”</p><p>The take-out box almost dropped out of Evalla’s fingers. She refilled the cup in silence and returned to the bathroom. Sophronia looked at her friend and reached out for the cup. Evalla didn’t move an inch, instead stared down on her. Any sense of warmth was gone—there were questions in her eyes. </p><p>“Whose blood?” she asked quietly.</p><p>Sophronia’s face dropped. “Ah, shit.”</p><p>“Whose blood, Nia?”</p><p>But she didn’t get an answer. The younger woman slid back down into the tub, eyes fixated on the ceiling. Evalla placed the cup on the edge a little harder than she meant to. Water dribbled over the edge and down on the blanket and pillows.</p><p>“Sophronia, tell me now.”</p><p>Their eyes met and Sophronia heaved a sigh. “Yates got into my apartment and left a warning.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” </p><p>Sophronia only shook her head at the question. Evalla’s eyes tried searching for an answer. But lacking the abilities of her friend, she came up empty-handed. </p><p>“What did you do?” she attempted again.</p><p>Sophronia’s eyes glossed over. In one swift move, she got herself up and out of the bathtub. Her hand on the wall, she whispered, “Everything and nothing, Eva. Everything and nothing.”</p><p>And then Sophronia slapped her hand on her mouth. Evalla dodged out of the way and placed her hand on Sophronia’s unruly hair as her friend bent over the toilet bowl. Being so close, she could finally take a whiff of the smell that surrounded her. </p><p>While Sophronia brushed her teeth, Evalla convinced her that a shower would sober her up well enough for them to talk. </p><p>Sophronia only nodded and handed the makeshift bedding to her. </p><p>“You haven’t been picking up my calls,” Evalla told her once Sophronia reappeared. She was elbows deep in dish soap and water. </p><p>“You don’t gotta do that,” she told her. Evalla stole a peek and saw that Sophronia’s eyes were much clearer now. “And I lost the phone,” she added.</p><p>“You worried me. A lot.”</p><p>Behind her back, Sophronia scratched at her scalp. “I never meant to do that.”</p><p>“What happened with Yates?” Evalla asked gently without turning around. She could feel Sophronia’s eyes on her nape. </p><p>“The girl he sent to spy on me, you remember her?”</p><p>Evalla nodded her head. “Vaguely.”</p><p>“<em>She’s dead</em>. Because of me.”</p><p>Pausing the scrubbing of a cup, she looked at Sophronia with a frown on her face. “You don’t know that,” Evalla whispered. </p><p>“But I do.”</p><p>Evalla watched as Sophronia lifted the keyboard on the desk. From underneath it, she pulled out a white envelope. It was handed to Evalla. “Read this.”</p><p>Evalla dried her hands on her pants and slowly unfolded the envelope. Sophronia’s analytical eyes followed her movements and each twist and pull of her expression. </p><p>Reading through the note, Evalla could see plain as day why Sophronia’s attitude was the way it was. It pained her to know that she blamed herself. Her eyes snagged on the first sentence of the note, though—it confused her. <em> Your debt has just quadrupled.  </em></p><p>She gave Sophronia a scolding stare. “You owe him, Nia? I told you not to borrow from the Lotus.”</p><p>“It’s not my debt.”</p><p>Sophronia grabbed the envelope from Evalla’s hands and placed it back where it was. Her friend’s eyes were shuttered, closed off. </p><p>“What did you do?” Evalla asked. </p><p>Sophronia walked to the window and leaned against the window frame, showing Evalla her profile. “I asked him why Julie worked for him. He said that her dead parents had a debt with him and she inherited it. Isn’t that just fucked?” </p><p>Evalla didn’t dare to even think that it was how things worked—in a way, she was worried it could send her into a spiral. </p><p>“She was young and had so much potential. I thought, you know, she shouldn’t be weighed down by her parents’ mistake. She had so much to do and she had so many great things to achieve. She was only twenty, for goodness sake,” she said as if that explained the raging ferocity with which her voice raised after each sentence. “I took on her debt because I believed he wouldn’t touch her again. That he would give her a chance at life.”</p><p>“Nia…”</p><p>“Don’t even start!” Sophronia seethed at her friend. “He gave me his word. That should have been enough to make him stay away.”</p><p>“Yates is a liar who thrives on exploiting people’s weaknesses. He didn’t think you had one until you did that. You basically handed him a loaded gun.”</p><p>She glared. “Don’t scold me, Evalla.”</p><p>“I’m not scolding you.” Evalla crossed her arms in front of her petite frame. “What exactly did he do to your apartment? And why don’t you have a bed?”</p><p>“He dumped blood on it. And before you ask, I don’t know whose.” She paused in the middle of her room as if talking about it transported her back—back to whatever happened. Sophronia picked up her hand and with a shaky finger she pointed at the wall under which her bed used be. Her jaw was tight as she looked up, her face grave. “Then put pictures of Julie on that wall. Pictures of her dismembered fucking corpse.”</p><p>Evalla’s stomach turned inside out at the image her mind conjured up. “I’m going to wreck him.”</p><p>“No,” Sophronia responded with an alarming calmness in her tone, shaking her head. “No, you won’t. Because I will, and I know exactly how. I’ll take his mind and break it apart until he doesn’t know where his body begins and ends.” She held Evalla’s stare. “I’ll rip his memories from him. I’ll make him forget his name and I’ll have his brain relive the kind of pain Julie felt when he butchered her. I’ll hear him beg for forgiveness he couldn’t give her and I’ll leave him to bleed out. Yates will pay. Just not now. <em> Just not now </em>.”</p><p>Evalla was frozen in her shoes as she watched the white tendrils snake through Sophronia’s irises. They were curtained with the wet, dripping hair, but she could see that from across the room. Sophronia thought about it, imagined it and perhaps even planned out each detail. </p><p>She has never seen this blatant violence from her friend. She always took her for a mellow person. One that wanted nothing but a peaceful and normal life. One that took on her anger in a harmless way. That facade has seemingly fallen into pieces. </p><p>This thing—Julie’s death—has awoken a part of Sophronia that had lay dormant for a long, long time. Evalla saw it and she recognized it—understood it. </p><p>“Call me when you do it.” She gave Sophronia a nod and turned back to her dishes. “I want to see the light wink out of his eyes in person. How much is it?”</p><p>“Don’t even think about it, Eva,” Sophronia said, her voice flat and void of emotion again. As if that confession drained everything out of her body.</p><p>“How much? I’ve helped you out of bigger messes.”</p><p>“Not like this one.”</p><p>“Try me, child.”</p><p>Sophronia mumbled a sum and Evalla had her repeat it two more times. A string of filthy curses left her mouth as she stopped the water. When she turned around, she found Sophronia with her head in her hands, seated in the chair. </p><p>“He even began cutting down my hourly,” she mumbled, anger shaking her shoulders. “He has me locked in, Evalla. I still got a good half to pay off and I can’t even do that because he isn’t paying me. And most days I can’t even focus enough to work. It’s a mess, it’s such a fucking mess and I don’t see a way out.”</p><p>“You could run,” Evalla offered and Sophronia shook her head. </p><p>“He’ll hunt me down.”</p><p>“You’ll die if you stay here.”</p><p>“Then so be fucking it.”</p><p>Evalla forced herself to swallow what rose to surface at those sacrilegious words. She turned around with a finger pointed in Sophronia’s direction. “Don’t say shit like that. Ever again. You can quit your day job and leave the States. Go back to France and start a new life there. You know, start the mechanic’s shop like you wanted.”</p><p>“I can’t.” </p><p>“You can’t what?”</p><p>“I can’t quit my job.” Evalla gave her a dissatisfied cock of an eyebrow. “I got fired a month ago. I’m tied here by the ankles. If I run, it’ll always be me looking over my shoulder. And you too.”</p><p>“You already do that with SHIELD.”</p><p>Sophronia’s gaze traveled to a stray bag near the bathroom door. She audibly swallowed and rolled her eyes. “That part’s even more complicated.”</p><p>Evalla hummed and put water to boil. “I can tell.” She looked at the aquarium under the window and smiled. “At least they’re still alive.”</p><p>Sophronia followed her gaze and allowed herself a small smirk. “Thank God for automatic feeders.”</p><p>❈</p><p>Halfway through an episode of a sitcom, Evalla got a call that had her rushing out of the door. Sophronia was left in her dark apartment with Evalla’s number scribbled onto a stray piece of paper. At last, she was alone again. </p><p>Sophronia had no idea what she was doing with her life. The chat with Evalla certainly eased a light load from her shoulders. But when they sat on the floor and Evalla recommended they watch one of those atrocious TV shows, Sophronia couldn’t fight the need that stirred inside her. The need for normalcy, familiarity. The need for comfort. </p><p>She was there, on the cold ground right next to her only friend, but her mind was still on that conversation and on Chester Yates. On the changes.</p><p>It took another week of wallowing in her own filth for Sophronia to somewhat break the vicious cycle. She didn’t lay off the alcohol nor the cigarettes completely. They served as a distraction. One she couldn’t lose. She began thinking—instead of wallowing. </p><p>Though desperation for freedom and a fresh start gnawed on her throat, Sophronia couldn’t help but disagree with Evalla’s and her own final conclusion. </p><p>That Sophronia’s only options were to either die in this city or run for the rest of her life. </p><p>Yates didn’t want to let go of her, because Sophronia knew too much about how things worked and was a well of information, a magnet. She was sure to deliver on whatever task she was given. Sure to find dirt on any person she was assigned. This much she figured out months ago. Yates stuck to her like a tick. </p><p>But there <em> was </em>one way out. She would still have to be on the lookout, but there it was. Her answer, her solution to possibly the biggest dilemma she has ever faced. </p><p>Sophronia stared at the backpack near her front door. The satellite phone Fury gave her was hidden inside, untouched.</p><p>Fury would understand, wouldn’t he? He said to call him when an emergency occurred. Her life was threatened—it substituted as a reason enough to pick up the phone and dial his number, right? </p><p>Where Sophronia felt guilty about considering Evalla’s aid, the thought of asking Nick Fury didn’t seem so bad. He owed her just as much as she owed him. He would understand. He always did. </p><p>But first, Sophronia would need to start the cleansing elsewhere. Alone and in silence. It was all moves and countermoves at this point—Chester was on her back and she needed to shake him off. Her life was complicated, she needed to simplify it.</p><p>Inhibitions aside, she decided once and for all what she would do. But it was going to be on her own terms, in her own time. </p><p>Sophronia opened the backpack and pulled out the phone. Grabbed her precision tools and sat at her desk. Broke the small machine apart and extracted the tracking device. </p><p>No one was going to follow after her. Not SHIELD, not Fury, not Yates. She was going to Washington and she was going now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The One where They Come Knockin' (Literally)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the loose ends in New York were tied and old debts were called in, Sophronia had set her mind in stone on what she would do. The Avengers Initiative that Fury presented her with all those months ago was a hopeless reach, even for him. She would never agree to joining the team, unless something had changed. And on that front, Sophronia hadn’t budged an inch.</p><p>Fury started big, then presented her with something that would itch. Itch and itch until Sophronia decided to entertain the idea. And he knew she would.</p><p>
  <em> You’ll get life’s worth of your serum for a few years of service. Think about it. </em>
</p><p>And think, she did. </p><p>She was holding a cigarette stub in one hand and SHIELD’s satellite phone in the other. In front of her was a gravestone with two bouquets of fresh lilies. The sun of late August was beating down on Sophronia’s shoulders as she looked ahead of her. </p><p>“You’d know better than me. You always did,” she said to that inanimate piece of marble. A discoloured, bronze plague stared right back at her. </p><p>She looked around the cemetery. It was empty except for an old lady sitting on a bench near the entrance. When she passed her, slight envy rose at the woman’s intricate braids. </p><p>Sophronia turned back to the headstone. “You never taught me how to braid my hair. Had to learn that myself.” She cocked her head to the side. “That’s all dead and gone though.”</p><p>Despite the chirping of the birds in the trees behind her and their rustling, she could still hear the sound of traffic from the road. Washington was different from New York City. Calmer, less pressuring. Even if there were more memories here and she couldn’t start anew, this city was familiar. Different in a good way. For once, a change was welcomed to an extent. </p><p>She looked down at her hands, the satellite phone a comforting weight.</p><p>She hadn’t turned it on since the day she removed the tracker. Though it didn’t assure her anonymity in Washington, she felt better knowing the device was stuck to the bottom of her kitchen sink. Once the phone was turned on and connected, he’ll have her location within seconds. This delay, it slowed Fury down. Slowed him enough for Sophronia to catch her proverbial breath. </p><p>The phone was turned on with no further ado, but Sophronia waited a few minutes to dial Fury’s number. And when she did, he picked up almost immediately. </p><p>“Venere,” Fury’s calm baritone sounded over the speaker. </p><p>“I’m in Washington,” she informed him in the same tone. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Did the tracker confuse you?”</p><p>“Sure. Weren’t it for your abilities we’d be on your ass.”</p><p>She turned her back to the grave, a small smirk grazing her lips. “Will I be detained if I just walk into the Triskelion?”</p><p>“For the thing you did two months ago? No. But you will be if you try that again.” She smothered down a sigh. “I’ll send somebody to get you, Venere.”</p><p>As if that was enough for the director, he hung up. Sophronia sighed and took one last look at her father’s grave. </p><p>“Back to square one, I guess.” The white lilies granted a sense of peace to the otherwise bleak atmosphere of his resting place. She waved at the headstone. “You don’t go anywhere, dad. I’ll be back for your birthday.”</p><p>❈</p><p>Sophronia knew she was justified in telling Evalla to cut contact for a bit. When Fury said he’ll have someone get her she expected it would take a few hours. She didn’t think the wait would be a week. </p><p>She was returning from a grocery run that evening when her eyes snagged on the black car parked in front of her home. Looking inside, it proved to be empty. Whoever Fury sent must already be banging on the door of her motel room. She raced up the stairs. </p><p>Turning the corner of the hallway, her eyes landed on a big mass of muscle that was supposed to represent a person. Of course, it was hidden underneath layers of clothes but Sophronia knew what they hid was a sheer strength. He wore a brown leather jacket with those old fashioned slacks and his hair was shorter than the last time she saw him, more kempt. Well, this time he wasn’t fighting an alien army.</p><p>“Ma’am,” he said once he noticed her. His hands were in his pockets—a casual stance for him, she noted.</p><p>“Captain Rogers,” she greeted him with a nod. Half in disbelief that Fury would send Captain America, she gestured to him to move away from the door. “Did Fury demote you?”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“Did he demote you? To an errand boy.” </p><p>Rogers lifted one corner of his mouth to her scorn. “I was given an order. That’s all I know.”</p><p>She didn’t pause her attempt of unlocking the stubborn door when she gave a mirth. As she stood close enough to smell his cologne, not an emotion was felt from him. Rogers cleared his throat and forced her to look at him—he had a curious look in his eyes. </p><p>“Right, orders,” she whispered and yanked the door knob. “Wait here. I’ll be right out.”</p><p>Her groceries were left on a small counter of the rented room as she popped into the bedroom for her phone. It was the only technology she really owned now—much to her dismay. Anything else had to be sold for parts. She had needed cash for moving. In fact, she still needed it. </p><p>When she reemerged she found Rogers leaning on the front door, peering inside and probably assessing her living situation. She was aware of the few beer bottles sticking out of the lidless trash can. </p><p>“You done snooping?” Sophronia called out, grabbing a jacket off the back of a chair. Rogers looked to her with the same look from before—her tone was noted and not appreciated. She shrugged. “Shall we?” </p><p>❈</p><p>She was inspecting her knuckles while they waited for the director. In the golden hue of the setting sun, the scars marring them were undeniably real. Under any other circumstance, she sometimes forgot they were there—beat herself over for forgetting. It was as if the evening wanted to uncover the things she tried to hide from herself. </p><p>Things like the first time she was in this office. The last time. Who she was in there with—or without. </p><p>The Captain stood behind her motionlessly. He had his hands crossed behind his back and his eyes were fixated on the beautiful view of the Potomac river. His face, though, it was blank. </p><p>Sophronia couldn’t feel a single thing from him while he drove them to the Triskelion. Not a wave, not a pulse of emotion. She was slowly growing convinced that Rogers was actually a psychopath with no feelings. All right, maybe not <em> a psychopath </em>—she knew how those felt. Met a handful of them throughout her life. </p><p>And Rogers, he was not crazy. </p><p>He was just <em> that </em>in control. </p><p>The door behind them clicked open and in came strutting the man of the day. With one of his hands in a pocket, the director looked over the two—how they waited in utter silence. </p><p>“Venere, nice to see you.” Fury nodded to the man behind her. “Thank you, Captain.”</p><p>“Hello to you, too,” she said and watched Fury take a seat behind his desk. She could hear Rogers move closer to the table, standing somewhere behind her.  </p><p>Fury leaned back, his hands connecting on his stomach as he took in the sight before him. At the lift of his eyebrow, Sophronia waited for him to speak up. It didn’t happen. They just exchanged glances for a while in that dreadful quietness of his office. </p><p>“The view’s nice,” Sophronia noted and watched as Fury cocked his head to the side and put on that expression of impatience—of a busy director. “Should I be the one to speak first?”</p><p>“Didn’t you initiate it?”</p><p>“Didn’t you send Mr. Rogers here to pick me up?”</p><p>“I thought you would be more comfortable seeing a familiar face considering the fact that you ran into each other during the Attack.”</p><p>Sophronia slowly turned her head to Rogers, who was staring down on her. “You snitched?”</p><p>Fury interrupted this exchange. “Did you change your mind?”</p><p>She faced Fury again. After a roll of her neck, Sophronia gave an unwilling nod. Her face scrunched up as she spoke. “Under <em> a few </em>conditions.”</p><p>Fury kept on giving her his bored expression. </p><p>“I need money first.”</p><p>Taken aback, Fury gives a humorless chuckle, languidly laying his hands on the armrest. “You into gambling now?” Fury asked, half-serious. </p><p>Sophronia fought the urge to turn around and check Rogers’s reaction. “It’s complicated.”</p><p>“Should I ask?”</p><p>“You can, but I probably won’t answer.”</p><p>“You got anything else on your little list?”</p><p>“Why do you think it’s little?” she quirked her brow. Her expression soon fell away when Fury had no reaction. She straightened her back. “I don’t want to do interrogations anymore. And no excessive blood work. I don’t want my DNA traded around like Pokémon cards. Just that team of doctors you mentioned.”</p><p>Fury appeared to be contemplating her terms that even Sophronia didn’t think were that outrageous. Considering their history, he had to understand the reason behind this decision—what she told him at the Carrier before she left still stood. <em> On her terms, in her time. </em> </p><p>“Sometimes you’ll need to use your interrogation techniques.”</p><p>“When that time comes, leave that to me.”</p><p>“I’m happy,” he started in his usual slow voice and leaned his elbows on the table, “to know that our ideas as to what you’re going to do here match up. But I have some conditions of my own.”</p><p>Sophronia nodded and began feeling like she was debating the details of a contract with Hades himself. </p><p>“You’ll do physical tests, psychological evaluation, a lie detector.” She nodded again—so the usual. “You will cease every and any illegal activity, you’re working under the government now. That includes no security breaches of our database.</p><p>“You’ll swear an oath as humanity’s last line of defense—” </p><p>Sophronia rolled her eyes heavenward in ridicule.</p><p>“I’m not finished,” he reprimanded her with a stinky eye. “When and if you’re out on a mission, you will listen to your superior. In most cases that will be Captain Rogers here. You <em> won’t </em> use your powers unless you’re told otherwise. They are to remain a secret unless the situation deems their use important. </p><p>“Then it’s only the standard things from before. No mention of your real name in the database, including the Index, you will be referred to by a name of your choosing, clearance level, limited access. If you agree—” at this pause, Sophronia hummed her assent, “—you’ll be transferred to the training facility within three days to start your physical training.”</p><p>Sophronia inhaled a lungful only to slowly blow it out. All of the information that Fury just spewed hadn’t settled in yet. She would need to sift through it once she was home. “How long?” she asked. </p><p>“Rogers,” he looked up and Sophronia didn’t need to be reminded that the man was still in the room. His presence was overpowering at times. “What is your assessment of Venere’s physical abilities?”</p><p>“She was winded by the time she got to her door on the third floor. <em> And </em> when we reached your office.”</p><p>Sophronia now fully turned in her seat to take in Steve Rogers, who seemed to be enjoying this immensely. Even if his expression didn’t give, the twinkle in his eyes said everything. “Is <em> that </em>why we took the stairs?” she asked and stared at Fury who had a small smirk on his face.</p><p>“Six months in the training facility,” Fury concluded and Sophronia’s chest collapsed at what was to become her life.</p><p><em> "Oh, boy,” </em> she murmured under her breath. </p><p>
  <span>“Now, Venere, you’ll focus on a lot of things during your training—one of which will be mastering your powers. I can’t have you running around exhausted and not in control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia knew he didn’t mean it as a jab, but she still balked at the way he said it. She gave him an unconvinced look.</span>
</p><p>“You said it yourself, your powers have evolved. I want to explore that front as much as possible.”</p><p>“Will I be given the standard training, too?”</p><p>“Yes. Rogers will be overseeing your progress and reporting back to me.”</p><p>Over her shoulder, Sophronia told the Captain with a grave face, “He demoted you, Errand-Man.”</p><p>“We will discuss the money tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do. You’ll be here nine in the morning sharp. We’ll go over your training schedule and all the details. Don’t be late.”</p><p>Fury plucked a visitor’s badge from his suit pocket and slid it to Sophronia. Taking this as a sign of dismissal, Sophronia stood up to leave.</p><p>At the door, Fury stopped her. “Sophronia.”</p><p>She looked over her shoulder to find Fury and Rogers staring. “Yes?”</p><p>“Think of a name we will use for you.”</p><p>“Don’t have to,” she shrugged. “I’ll use Vertigo.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The One where Sophronia Gets More than Sore Muscles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have majority of this fan-fiction planned out, but sometimes details escape me and individual chapters stop feeling cohesive with the rest of the story. I've been trying to map out Sophronia's life up to the plot of CA:TWS for the past two weeks, while trying to maintain her character's arc regular, but it wasn't in line with my standards. If you've read the last two chapters I posted (that would be chapter #14 and #15 before effectively being deleted) you could feel that the story and the pacing felt a bit off. That's why I decided to rewrite them and possibly merge them together as I've gathered a clearer image of what I want to do. </p><p>If you haven't read them before, just keep reading. But for the people who have already read the chapters of Sophronia at SHIELD's Training Facility, I beg you, wipe that shit from your memory, because that was just plain <em>bad</em>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Quinjet’s hatch opened and Sophronia let out a breath. Her hands undid the buckles faster than the rest of the trainees around her. She picked up her head to examine the building complex of SHIELD’s Training Facility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spacious was the first word reaching her mind. From this distance, Sophronia could barely make out the front door. The trek across the whole facility must have been lengthy. With the cadets’ heads blocking her view, she could only see the shoulders of the main, grey-colored building disappearing to both directions. And now, when the rumble of the engine finally quieted down, the yelling from a field far away barely reached the Quinjet. But Sophronia could still hear it and she realized it wasn’t even six in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thought to herself,</span>
  <em>
    <span> this is going to be worse than a boot camp. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the landing ramp were three people dressed in SHIELD’s gear—the welcome wagon. The woman in the middle was flanked by two taller men, watching the twelve greenhorns exit the Jet in two neat rows. They had their hands behind their back and their mouths in tight lines. Sophronia was the last one to step down onto the gravel road. She followed the example, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the cadets, had her hands behind her back, chin up high and eyes to the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde woman whispered something to a man on her right. He looked around the men and women in front of him with his bright green eyes and nodded. The woman said to the twelve, “Follow me, agents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group moved in an unsynchronized rhythm to the front door. Sophronia used the advantage of being in the back and spied the faces of other up-and-coming agents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six men and five other women were staring emptily in front of them. They looked like they knew the drill of these things. All of them were at least five years her senior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the director of this facility, Moira Tejedor,” the woman welcomed them inside in a cold, but warm voice—an oxymoron, but Sophronia couldn’t have explained it differently. She proceeded to speak about schedules, accomodation and how hard they were going to work here. “No mercy,” Moira said. “We’ll toughen you up so you become SHIELD’s best. Not average, but best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia was so invested (or bored—she couldn’t tell) that she flinched when a hand landed on her shoulder. She quickly turned around to meet piercing green eyes. It was the man the director talked to outside the Jet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he had her attention, he led her from the group in silence and deeper into the building. He flashed his ID card to a panel similar to the one Sophronia installed in the Lotus—this one more high-end, though the principle was the same. “I’m Amir,” he told her with a deep voice and outstretched his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit down on her tongue. No better time to start practicing her tolerance than now. “Vertigo,” she said and shook his hand. The way he lifted one corner of his mouth gave him a friendly and trustworthy aura. Sophronia instantly liked him more—he reminded her of her father with the way his teeth were slightly crooked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’ll be your trainer for the next six months,” he said and pushed through yet another door. He handed her a similar ID that only held her alias and an empty space for her photo. She put it into her pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” she asked and scrutinized the way the facility’s blandness was occasionally interrupted by black plagues with numbers. It could use a decoration or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To the medical wing.” She looked at Amir, who smirked at her. “You afraid of needles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she told him and warily looked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Amir said with a grin, pressing a button to the elevator they stopped next to. “Just some bloodwork. Everybody goes through that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia hummed as they entered it. She kept quiet, staring at the metal door for the duration of the ride and ignoring the assessing gaze of the agent next to her. Sophronia followed Amir, who led them to one of the rooms where a female doctor was already waiting. Dr. Johnson, as Sophronia read from the tag on her white coat, pulled on gloves and ordered Sophronia to sit. She shrugged off her jacket, laying it across her thighs. Sophronia gazed at the distant Adirondack Mountains through a window while the silence enveloped the three of them before Amir cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Amir started. “I heard Cap’s doing your monthlies instead of me—not that I’m complaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at her trainer who was leaning on the door frame, as far as possible from the needle in Dr. Johnson’s hand. “Why does he have to, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does Captain America have to do your evaluations?” Amir asked her, amused. “Hell, if I knew. Some squad heads like to know the people working under them and I’m thinking the Captain is one of those people and probably asked for the gig himself. Yeah, he seems like the guy. Have you met him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Handful of times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a pleasant face,” Amir said with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia looked down at the needle sticking out of her inner elbow and back at Amir, her expression comically empty. “Maybe he’s overrated,” she replied after a pause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about to make a dent in the facility again. They eat up the patriotic ideology over here, it’s apparently an American thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia looked him over and said, “I’m gonna guess you’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir shook his head. “Actually I’m first-generation. Never felt American enough, thought joining the army would change that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Amir answered with a mirth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you served?” she absent-mindedly asked, keeping her mind off of the blood Dr. Johnson was drawing. She could feel the cold hands of the woman right in the marrow of her bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Half of us did. SHIELD doesn’t only recruit fresh faces, some people transfer from active duty here because they’re good. Which means you’re good too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia almost made a face, because she knew the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dr. Johnson pulled the needle out and handed Sophronia a band aid, saving her from answering Amir. “Name?” she asked with a bored voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vertigo,” she answered and Dr. Johnson had to look to Amir for approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Special protocol, director’s orders,” he answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor mumbled something passively and wrote her name down. She weighed Sophronia and did some more things Sophronia had no care to actually understand or recall. Amir kept talking about what they should be doing, but it went in one ear and out the other. The whole process was tedious and consisted of too many questions about her health record. Dr Johnson even touched on her other harmful habits and gave her a dirty look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir waited for Sophronia while she put on her jacket, careful not to rip the band aid off. She felt Amir’s eyes on her as she pulled the sleeves over her wrists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Battle scars?” he asked and nodded down to her knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia reluctantly nodded and fought the urge to stick her hands inside the pockets. Instead, she clasped her hands on her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all got some,” he said and pointed to his neck, where a gnarly, faded scar tissue went from his ear to the collar bone. Amir nodded his farewell to the doctor and walked out of the door. “Have you thought about physical therapy? The tremor will get in your way once we get to shooting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia rubbed her forehead as they neared the elevator. “It’s five years old, I doubt physical therapy would do much.” Amir didn’t reply to that. “Anybody else who wants my blood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir smiled at her attempt of a joke and pointed somewhere behind him. “Your room,” he informed her and during the elevator ride continued talking. “Your bag’s already in there, but change into some work-out clothes and we’ll start with your preliminary. See how you’re doing physically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know I didn’t get much movement the past few years since—” Sophronia cut herself off. “Since I got a desk job,” she finished and turned to Amir with a smile as they began walking through an identical corridor from before. Sophronia noted that maybe the numbers were different but she couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if what you’re saying’s true, you’ll have more than sore muscles by the time I’m done with you.” Amir clapped her on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>❈</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A jolt brought Sophronia to the land of the living. Her head spun as she sat up. The pain that the movement elicited in her back wasn’t even acknowledged in her state. Her mind—it was still stuck on that imagery. On that nightmare that made her body tremble each night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of groaning metal, the smell of burning flesh, the feel of a hand in hers. It all chased away the realization that it wasn’t real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps once it was, but now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she was somewhere else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sure of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed the grey comforter off of her body and went to stand up. Her thighs burned and the muscles in her arms protested as she leaned on the nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drying tears on her cheeks felt like a cooling balm as the rest of her body warmed up with strain. She looked around the room and her chest almost collapsed with relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in her room—not in that Quinjet five years ago, not under the mass of rubble from her less recent past. She was in the training facility on her way to become a SHIELD agent again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia looked around and counted the things she recognized, forcing herself to find her bearing. The bland white walls, the tiny closet which consisted mainly of work-out clothes, and the digital clock on the windowsill that read four in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was here and she was alright. Sophronia sat back down. Her pajamas were sweated through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her first night at the facility hadn’t gone as planned. She rolled her neck out, trying to ease the tension she felt everywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir didn’t lie—by the time he dismissed her, she was nothing but noodle-like arms and jelly legs. His playful remarks were gone once they walked through the gym’s threshold and Amir turned into a sweat-thirsty monster of a trainer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. This might have been the first time in years she had slept for more than seven hours at a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia had no idea what to do to ease the pain she felt everywhere. Amir mentioned some stretches as she was leaving, but at the time, all she thought about was a shower and a bed. She should have listened more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing up, she tried to replicate the moves Evalla had taught her a few years ago when she still lived in New York. They took some of the load from Sophronia’s shoulder and by the time she was done, it was time for her to get ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yesterday, Amir explained everything to her. And when she says everything, she means everything. While she was doing crunches, she half-mindedly listened to him drone on about her schedule and explanations on what the acronyms in the hallways meant. She even got a map. It did help when she was making her way into her assigned room. The abbrevations, though, were still a mystery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And today, she was going to keep running miles and lifting weights, despite her muscles not wanting to even allow walking. Afterwards, Amir was going to teach her gun safety—something she was familiar with, but it was still mandatory. Then her attempt at firing a gun was to come. She used to be pretty good, but she hadn’t handled one in years—in a way she feared the guaranteed failure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir was telling her about a paper he read a few years ago. “Some dart players with tremor in their hands can still throw darts perfectly. The shaking stops right as they are about to let go and then </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom!</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dead center.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia was standing at an almost empty shooting range with a gun in her hands and a frown on her face. She pulled the trigger and followed the bullet. Yet another had made it to the outside of the target and not where she had aimed it. This was her second magazine, she realized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave Amir a tight-lipped smile while handing the gun back. “No darts player here, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir put the gun away and told her something about how she should try harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s next, again?” she asked once he was done with his lecture and left for the door. Walking through past the occupied booths, the trainees—some of them the ones she flew in with—were doing much better than she was. Sophronia was seeing one bull’s eye after another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ST. Room 085,” Amir said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stamina Training</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sophronia rolled her neck. “Wasn’t that supposed to be tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time seems to pass you,” Amir said with a chuckle. “It’s today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia nodded and turned a corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular aspect of her training was a thing out of her worst nightmares. When he explained it to her, she balked with no shame in her body. Spending hours in a room with reinforced concrete walls every few days was going to be taxing. Not to mention boring. Getting her mind to focus on cloaking herself for twenty minutes straight was a feat itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s withdrawal symptoms,” Amir told her during her yet another medical check-up. “It’s got to get worse before it gets better.”  Each day at the facility, it was going to be more and more difficult to maintain control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t skip it today, can we?” she sighed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Amir replied and parted ways with her at the elevator. “You just go down to 085 and I’ll join you in a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After watching his bulky form disappear down the hallway, Sophronia flashed her ID to the elevator’s panel—it now contained a photo of her sleep-deprived self. She realized her cheeks looked more sunken than she deemed attractive. She stuffed it back into her pockets in disdain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once out of the the elevator she looked through the door’s tags, trying to find the number 085. Sophronia got distracted by something white glittering in her peripheral vision. She turned around, ready to nod in greeting but no one was there. It happened again a few doors down. But once she turned her eye, only the grey plastic of a door was present. Not a sign of the indescribable, white hallucination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scoffing, Sophronia finally stepped inside the 085 and walked through another door. It must have been the exhaustion, she told herself, or the withdrawal symptoms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the middle of the not-so-spacious room was a chair. Just like she told Amir would be enough. It was a simple office chair she was supposed to sit in for hours. All while her shields, conjured knives or other creations were out on display for the camera in the corner to capture. “To extend your abilities as much as you can,” Amir said during the initial explanation, “you’ll use up all you got. Then rest and repeat. It’s been proven to be effective.” Sophronia didn’t believe the last bit much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia sat down in the chair for the first time, squirming and moving until finding the most comfortable position. Fiddling with her thumbs, she inspected the cracks in the wall in silence. After a few moments, she finally heard the click of the door from the other side of the one-way mirror and saw the red dot glare at her from the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Amir’s voice called out through the speaker. “Should we start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia hummed her assent and after a maneuver with her hand an invisibility shield enveloped her being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Amir encouraged and Sophronia breathed out. “We could start STs with stressors in a few weeks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Amir couldn’t see it, Sophronia nodded her head and looked around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The color grey of the walls gained an iridescent hue through the veil of her powers. In the mirror, she could see nothing but the empty chair and the glare of the overhead lights speckled with rainbow tints. If somebody else was in her place, they would think of this world as prettier, brighter and maybe even more hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet the dread that filled Sophronia couldn’t have been overlooked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia squeezed both of her fists and garnered more energy, thickening the shield and making the chair disappear from in front of Amir’s eyes. She closed her eyes and reminded herself why she was in this chair right now. Julie, the serum, the Lotus—it played out like a reel on her eyelids as she got lost in those moments. Grimness trickled through her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see you, Vertigo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia flinched and opened her eyes. When she saw herself in the mirror, she frowned. Amir’s voice sounded over the speaker once more, telling her to focus. Sighing, she replied, “Yeah, yeah, mind’s wandering.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then make it not wander, all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to be such a pain, Amir,” she mumbled under her breath, resituating her weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed. “Whatever.” Then she inhaled deeply before letting it out and feeling the chill seep from the walls. “You could turn up the heating in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you use your powers out there, you won’t have a heater on you. Now focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia looked at herself in the mirror again. Knowing that Amir was somewhere behind there, she smothered the urge to stick her middle finger in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She curled both of her hands into a fist. She didn’t even need to see it to know that her cloaking attempt had failed. She felt it the same way she felt exhaustion or anger when she focused hard enough. Right now, her focus was exactly where it needed to be—on her powers. Sophronia wiped the sweat from her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After some stretching, her palms glowed and strings fought to expand from them. But it wasn’t anything that could get past her own fingers. She performed a breathing exercise—a pattern of long exhales and inhales Amir taught her during her first time in this room—and tried again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached inside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The basin she imagined her powers to reside in was still there. She could sense its presence, its depth and width. Yet when it came to manipulating the mass of it to her will, Sophronia’s hold on the reigns loosened. Her useless hands had lost its grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed and took a break. When even that didn’t help, Amir asked what was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have I been in here?” Sophronia wondered aloud and lay her head in her palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forty five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long enough,” she said with Amir and rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t focus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next hour was spent with Sophronia sitting there and forcing her hands to do more than just glow and look pretty. After some time, even that light diminished to a soft, numb flush underneath her skin. Grunts and pants did nothing for her case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point, the red dot on the camera turned off and she knew that even Amir had grown tired of her failing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia rubbed her forehead, wishing there was something other than reinforced concrete to glare at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>❈</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sitting in the cafeteria later that week, pushing scrambled eggs around her plate when Amir showed up. He had a big smile on his bearded face and Sophronia gave him a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s here, come on.” He jerked his head to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is?” she questioned and stuffed a spoonful in her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He inched his face closer to her and whispered over the table with a smile, “Captain America.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia smirked at him. “And you said it was an American thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I never denied </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being American or his fan. Pick up your ass and let’s go,” Amir commanded but it came out weak, when he wore a smirk on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put down her spoon. “My dad, bless his soul, used to say breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile dropped and out came the Trainer-Amir, who had no mercy and no tolerance. Sophronia sighed at the change in Amir’s face. “You get up now or we run three extra miles tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I digress,” she muttered under her breath and stood up. “So that monthly evaluation is happening now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amir nodded and led her out of the cafeteria. “I already gave him your files and all the things we’re working on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It ain’t much,” she admitted and scratched the side of her neck. When she recalled their sparring sessions, she felt like she wasn’t too shabby. Considering her past experiences in that department, she knew a move or two. But maybe that was her pricked pride talking. She was already in her gym clothes so she had one less thing to worry about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been here for a week, don’t fret,” he told her and pointed to the stairs next to the elevator they stopped using since she started her trianing. “It’s thy gym number four. Have fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia pushed through the door with her shoulder, already in her head over what today was going to be. Who knew? Maybe she would pass Roger’s tets with flying colors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re dropping your elbows.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t leave your left open like that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t stand in the attacker’s territory, pull back!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was safe to say Sophronia was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>passing with flying colors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the words Rogers was saying seemed to mesh in Sophronia’s head and leave her more breathless than before. Her lungs burnt with need for more oxygen and muscles yearned for rest. With the way Rogers was looking at her, Sophronia knew she won’t be getting those things anytime soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time he sent a kick her way, she flew straight to the mat. She tried scrambling to her feet and getting back into the position with her jelly legs. But when the holy words of </span>
  <em>
    <span>water break</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounded, Sophronia let out a shameless “Thank you!” from her mouth. She didn’t even pay mind to the glance Rogers sent her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one of the many gyms the facility had in their pocket, this one had too much space for just the two of them. The mats for sparring covered most of the floor and there were three boxing rings in total. Yet, there was only two of them in here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia caught the water bottle Rogers threw her and went to lie back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up or you’ll go stiff,” Rogers said over his shoulder. “Trust me, it isn’t worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a grunt, Sophronia obliged and began easing her breathing into normal rhythm. While she drank, her eyes observed Rogers’s silhouette and the sweat that was staining the back of his gray t-shirt. She didn’t even want to think about the smell that must have been coming from </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The gym was permanently stained with it—the floor under her feet, too. Hell, maybe even her own skin. Sophronia could not wait to get under a hot stream of a shower head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers turned to her. “You ready for the next part?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s more?” she wheezed out and threw him the bottle. “We’ve been sparring for two hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t call your moves sparring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia frowned. “You’ve got a mean streak, I can’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got to meet you halfway.” He put a hand on his hip, leaning against the ropes surrounding the ring. “Fury asked me to check on your powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His statement sounded more like a question. Sophronia’s brows furrowed. “Do you even know what it is I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, Fury gave me a file but I… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Psionic energy manipulation</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia switched her weight from one foot to the other, gazing at Rogers for a long time before speaking up. “You want me to explain it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think I’d understand that either.” He pulled on the loose bit of gauze around his hand. “Show me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers paused in the middle of the ring marked by tape, lifted his hands and shuffled his feet to a defensive stance. Sophronia, still dumbfounded at the request, took this moment to think. “Fight you,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With my powers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At another nod from him, Sophronia breathed in deeply before lifting her hands, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers watched Sophronia’s eyes cloud over with white. His gaze snagged on her hands where small, shimmering strings coalesced out of thin air. They grew from the palm to the fingertips, intertwined and looped with one another. They didn’t form anything, just flowed around Sophronia’s fingers like a current. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia was the first one to near Rogers and punch. It was blocked and reciprocated with a swift jab to her side. A shield of unpenetrable glass appeared there but the momentum still sent her stumbling. She turned to him and dashed with her hands defending herself from the incoming assault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hits they exchanged hurt them both as his hands met the shield time and time again—each time her shield was thinner and thinner. Until it was absolutely gone and she just fought with her hands. He remarked on her technique in between gasps and sighs—allowed a few faux pas. Out of breath and options, she threw a kick to his chest. He fended off an incoming elbow in one elegant move, getting her into a headlock she couldn’t escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia blinked once, twice and reinforced the imaginary walls around her mind from the Captain. Behind them, she could sense his psyche, eager to make a connection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands let go of her as Sophronia hunched over slightly with exhaustion. She stretched out her palms, the same thing from the stamina training happened again. Her powers—they wouldn’t listen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could do that?” At the lack of response, Rogers called out, “Soph?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia blatantly stared at him, before she realized he was speaking to her. She dropped her hands, the fog from her eyes dissipating. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In New York, you could do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia planted her butt on the ground, winded. “No. I was drained.” She shook her head, ridding it off the distracting thoughts. A look of realization passed on his face and Sophronia shrugged. “It’s not a well without a bottom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A well can be deepened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a funny look. “You’re too optimistic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Realistic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A mirth escaped her as Sophronia lay down. “You’re a pillar of American patriotism, it’s your job to be a bubble of optimism, Cap. Can’t deny that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To the public maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilted her head and met his eyes as he sat next to her. “Are you telling me you’re actually the brooding type? Phew, what a way to ruin an illusion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rogers shook his head with a small smile on his lips. Then he began listing things she should be focusing on the next month. Strategy, stamina and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, no, more weight lifting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Sophronia’s groan, Rogers chuckled softly, “You could use the exercise as an outlet. It might help your attitude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia opened her eyes and sighed while her eyes were fixed on the blue hue of the overhead lights. “Sorry,” she mumbled out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Rogers said and bumped her knee with his. “As long as you try to manage it, it’s all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophronia, instead of giving some snarky remark, locked her eyes with his. After nodding to herself, she was on her feet, stretching and warming her hardened legs up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is something wrong?” Rogers asked her, but Sophronia only shook her head. </span>
</p>
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